Forgive us our sins
by Silwyna
Summary: In the Reddick Forest Sam and Dean run into a hunter more vicious than anything they have encountered before.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Supernatural. The characters and the universe of Supernatural do not belong to me. I make no profit from this story.**

**A.N.: This is a sequel to my other story "Calling". It starts about one week after the ending of "Calling". There are some references to the first story, but you don't need to read it to understand this story. **

**Thanks to Kaz for beta reading this story :)**

**Forgive us our sins**

**by Silwyna**

With a satisfied smile, Tobias Jackson dragged his prey after him leaving a bloody trail in his wake. It had been a good day. A successful hunt. He couldn't wait to gut his prey and let it bleed out. He hadn't had fresh liver in a long time. Also, not forgetting the heart and kidneys – already his grandfather had sworn on these organs for good health. And then there was the meat – this would keep him full for several weeks. He saw his cabin through the forest trees. It was just a few more feet and then he would be relieved of his heavy burden. He would have to hang it up in the shed to bleed it out and then get some rest. Finally - it had been a long day too.

The bushes on his left rustled, making him stop suddenly in his tracks. He had lived in these woods for more than half his life and knew every noise this forest could make. Nothing had startled him in here for years and yet, there was something about this sound that made the hair on his arms stand on end. As he quickened his steps he inwardly chastised himself. He must be getting old if a rustle in the woods made him feel scared.

Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed a shadow passing by but when he turned his head in the direction, he saw nothing but trees.

"I really am getting old." Tobias muttered. "Now my eyes are playing tricks on me as well." He thought about driving down to Pine Creek next week to see the doctor about getting a prescription for new glasses. He despised going down into town. After 40 years of living in the woods, going back to civilization wasn't something he looked forward to. Even less so when he remembered what civilization was doing to people. What it had made him do.

Tobias Jackson never got time to dwell on these thoughts for much longer as suddenly the deer he had been carrying was ripped from his hands and he was thrown against a nearby tree by an invisible force. The impact was pushing all air out of his lungs and before he got the chance to take in another breath, he felt his chest being ripped up by something that felt like claws. Tobias screamed in agony and fear. A long terrifying scream that would run the blood cold in anyone that had the misfortune of hearing it. But there was no one. Tobias was alone. And after the initial blow to his stomach, his screams gradually subsided and then stopped as a deadly silence fell over the woods.

Tobias Jackson had been living in the Reddick Forest for close to 40 years. He knew every animal, every tree and every sound in it. He believed he knew what was hiding in these woods. But he would never know what had killed him that day.

XXXXX

"A week Sam. We've been here for a week and nothing." Frustrated, Dean threw the newspaper next to him on the bed. "We have no idea what killed these people and there were no more deaths in nearly a month. Maybe it was just a bear."

"A bear?" Sam asked with raised eyebrows. He had been sitting in front of his laptop for hours trying to find any leads on their latest hunt. "These people were ripped apart. You've seen the photos. There is no bear with claws that huge. We're definitely dealing with something supernatural."

Sighing Dean fell back on the bed. "Fine. But even if it was something supernatural, it's gone now. I say we leave and look for a new gig somewhere else."

"We can do that from here." Sam replied absentmindedly, still typing on his laptop.

"Come again?" Dean asked, standing up. He wanted nothing more than to leave this backwoods town. He was pretty sure that he would go plain crazy if he had to spend one more night in this hillbilly motel with its kitten obsessed owner. There were pictures of kittens everywhere. The walls, curtains, blankets, even on the freaking carpet. He already had had nightmares about these evil pets. He was not going to spent one more second here than absolutely necessary. Not forgetting that it had been raining 24 hours a day since they had arrived here. If he had thought he hated snow, it didn't come even close to how he felt about rain right about now. If it kept going like this, he would have to turn his beloved Impala into an ark.

"We can search for a new hunt from here as well. Just to make sure … Shit!"

"What?" Alarmed by his brother's tone, Dean was at his side immediately and stared at the laptop. Sam was obviously busy checking his emails again.

"You're writing to Jade again?" He teased his little brother.

Sam rolled his eyes. "This is from Mitzy."

"Ahh, so Mitzy's your new love. I always knew you liked older women. I just never knew you liked them that old." Dean couldn't help himself. If there was an opportunity to mock his little brother, he simply had to take it. And Mitzy Dayton gave him lots of opportunities to do so.

Mitzy was a nice, 63 year old lady with a healthy interest for everything and a strange taste in clothes. She ran the local newspaper, so Sam and Dean had made her acquaintance fairly quickly after they arrived in town. Dean liked her, but she was fussing over Sam as if he was her very own grandson. His little brother always had that effect on elderly women and Dean knew that that always gave them lots of advantages when they tried to gather information. It still pissed him off though nevertheless and if he could tease his brother about it, he would use every chance he got.

"Would you shut up?" Sam growled. "Mitzy just sent me this press release from the Sheriff's office. There was a new killing. A hunter was found dead near his cabin up in the mountains. His body was … ripped up by claws." Sam cocked his eyebrow at his brother. "It's a good thing we didn't leave yet."

Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam. "So the bear got hungry again. That doesn't mean …"

"Dean."

The older Winchester rolled his eyes. "Fine. We'll look into it. But if we come up empty again, we're gone."

"Yeah, yeah." Sam waved him off and grabbed his jacket. "Mitzy asked to meet us at Maude's. Lets go."

XXXXXXX

Maude's was the only diner in Pine Creek, Wisconsin. It was a sweet little restaurant with several booths on one side and a bar on the opposite. There weren't many people there at this hour and Sam and Dean were able to pick a booth at the far end where they could talk without having to fear that someone was listening to them. They had come here every day since arriving in Pine Creek, enjoying Maude's special food, cake and coffee. They had found out quickly that this diner was the best place to find information too. Apparently strangers didn't often find their way to Pine Creek– a fact Dean didn't find surprising at all – and all its inhabitants were more than happy to share any news with them. The killings happening in the Reddick Forest, which lay directly next to the small town, was a topic anyone was willing to talk about and share their opinions with everyone. So, if two reporters from the New York Post were curious enough to make inquiries and travel this far to get answers, what local would miss their chance at notoriety and big-naming themselves and their town?

"Sam, Dean, I'm so glad you haven't left yet." Mitzy Dayton wheezed as she sat next to Sam at the table.

Neither of the brothers had ever seen her walk at a normal pace. Dean was sure that one day it would end in her death if she kept that up. This woman was ancient, for god's sake.

"Mitzy, hi." Sam greeted her, making place for Mitzy to take a seat next to him on the bench.

With a hidden smile he watched her catch her breath and place her oversized handbag on the table in front of her. Her multicoloured bobble hat and military jacket she handed over to Dean. Begrudgingly the older Winchester took them and put them on the bench next to him, his glare clearly showing that he didn't like being misused as a coat rack.

"With our job we learn to be patient with things like that." Sam said quickly before Dean could give any remark on that topic. "I just wish it hadn't been necessary for us to stay."

Dean stifled a groan. Not only did Mitzy treat Sam like one of her loved ones, Sam, being the nice and polite caring guy that he was, acted as if he really were her grandson. Sometimes Dean wondered where his little brother had gotten that from. Surely not from him or their Dad.

"So Mitzy, have you heard anything more interesting about this latest killing?" Dean asked to prevent any more polite small talk between his two companions. The last time they had sat together, she and Sam had talked about the weather, politics and Mitzy's neighbour's health problems for over half an hour.

"Just the usual." Mitzy sighed. "The Sheriff won't even show us any pictures of the body." She complained. Besides her interests for any news whatsoever, she also had a very, probably not so healthy interest in anything macabre, including pictures of bloody, deformed and brutalized murder victims. She had been spending some time in her youth working in Chicago and hunting down every crime scene she could find had been one of her favourite ways to spend the day. Dean didn't even want to imagine what kind of pictures she had saved on her small digital camera she always carried around with her. "I couldn't find out anything more than what Closter said at the press conference."

Dean had to grin at the mention of a "press conference". Mitzy was the only reporter in town and the only one in the room when Sheriff Closter held his weekly press conferences. From what Mitzy had told them, they sat together drinking a cup of tea and talked about what happened during the past week.

"That's not funny." Mitzy looked scolding at the older Winchester, clearly not amused by his grin. "The public has a right to know what we're dealing with. They need to know that someone or something is out there killing people. In a very brutal way I may add."

"Something?" Sam asked. It was the first time anyone in Pine Creek had mentioned the possibility that there wasn't a crazy serial killer loose in the woods. No one really believed the official bear story.

Sighing Mitzy took another swig of the coffee she had brought with her from the bar, before she replied. "Oh, it's Old Henderson that keeps filling everyone's heads with this rubbish. He's obsessed, I'm telling you."

"What's he saying?" Sam and Dean asked in unison.

"Well, he blames the Boobooshaw of course." Mitzy stated dryly.

"Excuse me … what? The boob's shoe?" Dean looked at the older woman with wide eyes. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Boobooshaw." He corrected his brother. "I've read about it on the net. But I thought it was just something to scare children with."

Sam had found the mention of the Boobooshaw by accident, from websites on which people tended to talk about anything supernatural that usually weren't real at all. He hadn't paid much attention to it as he hadn't found any proof that the story was legitimate.

"It is." Mitzy shook her head. "Old Henderson is just plain crazy, that's what everyone's saying. I once interviewed him about a bunch of hunters that had gone missing in the woods. Must have been about 40 years ago, shortly before I moved to Chicago. He claimed that an old cannibalistic Indian had turned into a demon and killed the men. He's a nut job I'm telling you."

"Huh …" Both Sam and Dean looked at each other. If they weren't mistaken - and according to Dean they never were, or at least he wasn't - then that sounded a lot like a Wendigo.

"Did they ever find out what killed the hunters?" Sam asked into the silence.

"No, they were just gone." Mitzy sighed. "Those woods are old, very old and deep. If you ask me, there are more animals in there than we believe and lots of ways to get lost and die. The official report said that they probably ran into a bear or something or fell down a cliff."

"All four of them?" Dean looked at her in doubt.

"Well, I never believed it myself. But it sounded a lot better than an old cannibalistic, demonic Indian, don't you think?" Mitzy snorted.

"Yeah, it sure does." Sam gave out a short laugh and then cleared his throat. "So, this Henderson guy, did he ever see the Boobooshaw? I mean, did he ever said he had seen it?" Sam quickly corrected himself. He didn't want Mitzy to believe he was as crazy as Old Henderson.

"Well, he said he's seen it, but … the Boobooshaw?" Mitzy's look spoke more clearly than her words.

"You're right, as if something called a Boobs show would ever kill someone." Dean grinned. "Maybe if you have a heart problem, but …"

"Dean." Sam growled. "And it's called Boobooshaw."

"Yeah, whatever." Dean waved him off. "So, where can we find the body?"

"You want to see the body?" Mitzy asked, her eyes narrowed to mere slits.

"Well, don't you?" Dean grinned.

Immediately Mitzy's grin mirrored Dean's and her eyes beamed with excitement. Sam shook his head at the macabre taste of his two companions.

"The body is still in the morgue, which is in the hospital's cellar. No security except for Warren, but for a slice of self made apple pie he's going to let us through." Mitzy scratched her chin in thought for a moment. "Freddie might become a problem though. He's the hospital's only doctor and the town's pathologist. He's very strict, especially when it comes to murder victims. Not that we usually have many of those around here. We'd have to distract him."

Dean was starting to like this woman a lot more. "Sounds like a plan to me." He grinned at Sam. "And I already know the perfect distraction."

"What?" Sam looked at his brother suspiciously.

"Well, your car accident from last month is finally paying off. Just tell the doc your ribs are still hurting or you think you might have some brain damage from the concussion, you know, talk a bit slow, like your dumb." His grin widened even more. "Shouldn't be too hard for you, right?"

"Thanks." Sam smirked. "Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Well, let's start then." Excitedly Mitzy rubbed her hands together. "This should be fun."

XXXXXXX

With the help of Mitzy's apple pie and Sam playing Dr. Fred Libbeck's patient, Dean and Mitzy were able to sneak into the Morgue without any problems. There had only been two deaths this week in Pine Creek – one had been 97 year old Harold Beech, who had died of a heart attack when he had brought the garbage out at night and the other one was Tobias Jackson, seasoned hunter, a hermit and the latest victim of whatever was haunting the Reddick Forest.

While Mitzy was already taking pictures of the body, Dean put on gloves and began inspecting the remains of Tobias Jackson. He really had been ripped apart. Fortunately the autopsy had already been finished and instead of fresh, bleeding wounds, scars were covering the whole body and bore witness to the brutal attack Tobias had fallen victim to.

"My God, if this was a bear, I'm still a dancing 20 year old." Mitzy muttered after she had finished taking pictures. "The report said his intestines and organs have been ripped out. Have you ever seen something like this?"

"Well, you know, these things come with the job. Though they are not always that bloody." Dean replied. Absentmindedly his fingers traced over three scars, going from the left shoulder across the whole chest. He couldn't help but remember Don Shaw, a man he and Sam had questioned a few months ago about his survival of a Wendigo attack at his home, when he had still been a kid. He had had similar scars on his shoulder, albeit several decades older. Still this could be another sign that they were dealing with a Wendigo.

"What do you think?" Mitzy inquired, her natural curiosity sparked by Dean's words.

"I think we have seen enough." Dean replied. He removed the gloves and threw them in a nearby trash can. "Let's go. By now Libbeck should have found out that everything's okay with Sam."

Or so Dean hoped. He hadn't said anything to Sam about it, but he was kinda glad that his brother got a final medical check over. They hadn't seen another doctor after Sam had left the hospital last month and even though his kid brother claimed to be pain free – and there was no indication that he was lying about that – Dean liked to make sure that all his wounds really had healed as they should have. And this had been the perfect opportunity.

XXXXXXX

"So?" Dean asked when he saw Sam stepping out of the hospital and walking towards the Impala. "What did the Doc say?"

"Not much. He went to school with Jackson and they had been good friends then, but he lost contact to him when Jackson permanently moved into his cabin in the woods. He only saw him every now and then when Jackson came into town to buy supplies or needed the Doc's help for anything he couldn't take care of himself." Sam told them. "I got the impression that something happened that made Jackson become a hermit, but the Doc changed the topic immediately when I asked about it."

"I could have told you the same." Mitzy sighed. "Tobias had been a nice man, always quiet and a bit shy, but … well, normal. That had changed when I came back from Chicago. He had left town and already lived in the woods."

"And?" Dean inquired, not at all satisfied by his brother's report.

"And nothing." Mitzy answered. "No one could ever give me a real reason for why Tobias moved up into the forest. It was one of the few unresolved mysteries in my journalistic career." She sighed.

"I meant Sam." Dean growled.

"I couldn't find out anything about his reasons as well." Sam shrugged.

"For God's sake, Sam. What did the Doc have to say about your health?" The older Winchester barked. His patience only went so far.

Dumbfounded Sam stared at his brother. "Everything's fine. What did you expect?" And then it clicked. Sam suddenly realized why his brother had picked him to be the one to play the "distraction." And with this realization he could also see the fear hidden deep in Dean's eyes. "He made all kinds of tests, X-ray and MRT because of my "suspected brain damage" and gave me a clean bill considering my health." Sam finally was able to give his brother the answer he had been looking for.

"Good. I just hope you showed them the right health insurance card because there is no way in hell I'll be able to hustle enough money in this town to pay for the hospital bill." Dean said. With that he walked around the Impala, opened the driver's door and got into the car. Now that he had all the information he'd wanted, there was no need to talk about it again.

Mitzy shot a curious look at the younger Winchester.

Sam felt like a deer caught in the headlights and quickly came up with an explanation for his brother's remark. "We had some problems with health insurance lately. Some administration problems. Someone entered some wrong information in the computer and bang … you're officially dead." Sam laughed shortly and cleared his throat. "Well, thanks for your help Mitzy. We let you know when we find something out."

"I'd appreciate that. And thank you …" Mitzy grinned. "It isn't every day that I get the chance to break into the morgue." With a satisfied smile, Mitzy walked away.

XXXXXXX

Twenty minutes later, Sam and Dean were back in the motel room. Mitzy had transferred her pictures into Sam's laptop while she and Dean had been waiting for him, so the younger Winchester had been able to see the same Dean had.

"Could be a Wendigo." Sam admitted begrudgingly. After his last encounter with one of these vicious creatures he didn't really look forward to a repeat.

"At least this time we're prepared." Dean shrugged. "So, we pack our bags, do a little walk through the woods and torch the friggin' sucker. That thing's as good as dead. This is an easy one." He grinned.

Sam looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He wouldn't exactly call their last Wendigo hunt easy. After all, Dean had nearly ended up as Wendigo food back then. "That has to wait. The Doc said that due to the rain from the last few weeks, all roads up into the forest are inundated. There's no way to get anywhere near where those killings happened. And we're not even sure it really is a Wendigo." He pointed out.

"Have you not seen these scars? And Mitzy said this Henderson guy saw a Wendigo 40 years ago. Looks like it got hungry again." Dean smirked.

Sighing Sam looked back at the pictures. "I don't know. Maybe we should look into this Boobooshaw legend more. Maybe …"

"There is no way I'm going to hunt something that is called Poobshoo." Dean objected immediately.

"Boobooshaw." Sam corrected him.

Dean ignored him. "No evil creature out there with any sense of pride would walk around with a name like Boobshee."

"Boobooshaw." Sam corrected him again. "And most evil creatures don't name themselves. It's usually us humans that choose the name. Maybe it's an Indian word or …"

"It's just a story to scare little kids, Sam."

"You mean like the Black Man? Or the Monster in the Closet? The Hook Man? The Tooth Fairy? Those are all just stories to scare little children. And we already killed each and every one of them." Sam cocked an eyebrow at his brother.

Annoyed Dean inhaled deeply. "Fine. You got a point. I'm still not hunting this Peepshow. It's a Wendigo."

"Boobooshaw, Dean. It's called Boobooshaw." Sam corrected him, irritated by his brother's continued use of the wrong word.

"Don't you even feel a little bit stupid repeating this name over and over again?" Dean grinned.

Sam waved him off. His brother was unbelievable. "I'm going to try and find this Henderson guy."

"You do it then. I'm going to pack our bags to make them Wendigo ready." Dean replied.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine. See you later."

XXXXXXX

A dark shadow scurried through the woods. It was hungry. It was thirsty. It was filled with anger. It wanted to be free. Finally free. But not yet. Not yet. The anger had subsided with the last breath of his last victim, but now the anger returned. It built up again from deep within and it could do nothing to prevent it. He hated the anger and the ever present hunger for more. It needed more. Much more. And there was only one way to get it all.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N.: Thank you all for reading and taking the time to leave a review. It's always highly appreciated and all your kind words make my day so much better :o) And thanks to Kaz for beta reading.**

**I can't really take full credit for the Boobooshaw. I searched the internet for any legends in Wisconsin and found it. I changed the legend a bit to fit with the story, but originally, the Boobooshaw is not my creation. But when I read the name, I knew I had to use it g**

* * *

It didn't take Sam long to find Old Henderson. Everyone in town knew him and one inquiry in Maude's diner had left Sam with replies from four different customers and one offer to drive him there. As it only took about ten minutes to walk from one end of the town to the other, Sam had politely declined and had walked the short distance. 

Now he stood on Henderson's porch, waiting for the old man to let him in. After the third ring of the bell a gruff voice from inside shouted for Sam to be patient and that he would get to the door as soon as he could.

After two minutes of patiently waiting, Sam started to worry that the old man might have fallen on his way to the door. He might be lying on the floor with a broken hip while Sam stood on the other side of the door doing nothing.

He was just about to ask if everything was all right when the front door opened and a haggard, old man, holding a crane in his left hand, appeared in front of Sam.

"What d'you want?" Henderson growled, eyeing Sam suspiciously.

"Mr. Henderson, hi. I'm sorry to disturb you. I …"

"You better be sorry. I was just watching my favorite show. I watch it every day." He glared at Sam accusingly. "Now I missed the answer to question #10."

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Henderson." Sam put on his most charming smile while at the same time looking apologetic at the other man. "If you could just give me a couple of minutes? I'd really need to talk to you."

"And why would I do that? Thanks to you I'll never find out from which lake Donald Campbell's Bluebird was recovered. I'm 92 years old. You think I have time to wait for a rerun? I don't even know you. Why would I give you even one minute of my time? In case you haven't noticed, I don't have much of that left." Henderson snapped.

For a moment, Sam feared that he would slam the door closed in front of him, but apparently Mr. Henderson was inclined to spend at least a little bit more time with Sam. The door stayed open. Suppressing a sigh, Sam started again.

"My name is Sam Lane. I'm a reporter with the New York Post and I'm here because of the killings in the Reddick Forest." Sam explained.

"Is that so?" Henderson narrowed his eyes at Sam. "And what would you want with me? I got nothing to do with that."

"I was told that you have a theory about who or what killed those people."

Mr. Henderson cocked an eyebrow at the mention of the word what. "And who told you that?"

"Mitzy Dayton." Sam swallowed. He wasn't exactly sure what kind of relationship Mitzy and Old Henderson had. He just hoped they didn't hate each other.

"Mitzy, huh?"

A small smile crept on Henderson's face. It was gone a second later, but Sam had seen it anyway. He took that as a good sign.

"She probably told you I was crazy, didn't she?"

"The word might have come up in conversation." Sam admitted. From experience he knew that staying with the truth as much as possible was usually the best way. "Thing is, Mr. Henderson, I don't think you're crazy and I would really like to hear what you have to say."

"So you can mock me in that newspaper of yours?" The suspicious look was back in Henderson's eyes.

"No, so that I can stop whatever is killing these people."

There was a moment of silence between them. The look of suspicion on Henderson's face was replaced by surprise.

"You think you can stop it?"

"Yes." At least Sam hoped to.

Mr. Henderson was eying Sam intently, trying to decide whether he should trust him or not. "Well, come on in then." He said after a few moments. He stepped back from the door to let Sam in. "Show's almost over anyway."

"Thanks." Sam replied smiling. Following Henderson inside, he found out quickly why it had taken the old man so long to open the door. He leaned heavily on his crane, stopping every few feet to take a deep breath. Watching him slowly walk down the corridor, Sam wondered how he had been able to reach the door in the first place. He kept close to Henderson, ready to catch the other man should he fell. The thought popped into his mind that he was lucky that he would never get that old. Hunters didn't reach the age of 92.

Sam dismissed those thoughts quickly though, reminding himself that this was only temporarily. As soon as he had found – and killed – the son of a bitch that was responsible for his mother's and Jessica's deaths, he would return to Stanford. Get back to normal and leave hunting behind him once and for all. He only wished Dean would follow him on that path. But his brother was a hunter through and through and Sam knew he would never leave that life behind. With a pang of pain, Sam realized that he would probably have to bury his brother one day. If he would even learn about his death. Maybe one day Dean would simply stop answering his cell phone. A shiver went down his spine and for a moment Sam felt as if he couldn't breath. He would do anything to save Dean. He just didn't know how.

"You're here to talk or just standing around?"

Henderson pulled Sam out of his thoughts and brought him back to the present. A present in which Dean was still very much alive, fighting at Sam's side and having his younger brother to watch his back.

"I don't have all day, so start asking your questions or leave." Henderson growled.

"I'm sorry." Sam quickly responded. He sat down on an armchair across from where Henderson had taken a seat on the couch. A closed-circuit breathing apparatus stood next to him and an ashtray full with old cigarettes stood on a small table in front of him. A plate still half full with something that might have been roast beef once stood next to it. The scent of cold smoke lay heavy in the air. The whole room screamed old and lonely and Sam thought that should he ever do reach the age of 92, he hoped he would have a better life then this.

Forcing himself back to his reason for why he was here, Sam started asking his questions. He thought it was best to start from the beginning.

"Do you remember four hunters that went missing in the Reddick Forest about forty years ago?" Sam asked.

"A lot of people vanished in those woods." Henderson replied coldly.

Okay, this wasn't going to be easy, Sam thought.

"Mrs. Dayton told me that you have an idea what might have happened to them. I would like to hear it."

"Mrs. Dayton, huh?" Henderson let out a hoarse laugh that was quickly followed by a coughing fit. It took him several moments to catch his breath and continue talking. "No one calls her _Mrs._ Dayton around here, son. She's Mitzy to everyone. Mitzy, ha!" He laughed again, nearly coughing his lungs out again afterwards. At least that's how it sounded to Sam.

Eventually he continued talking. "And she sure ain't no Mrs. No one's crazy enough to marry that old Bat. No man strong enough to handle her is walking around here, I can tell you that." His words were followed by more coughing and Sam was starting to fear that he wouldn't be able to breath for much longer. When the old man reached for his breathing apparatus, it spiked Sam's panic immensely. But after a minute or so the coughing stopped and a few moments later the wheezing sounds that had become Old Henderson's breathing evened out. Sam was relieved that he was spared a call to 911 and do CPR on the old man.

At least for now.

"So what do you think killed those man back then?" Sam asked once he was sure that Henderson would be able to talk again without suffocating.

Henderson hesitated a moment before he replied. "You really wanna know?"

"Yes."

"And you're not going to write about it in that paper of yours."

"No, I won't." Sam promised him.

Mr. Henderson nodded and then reached for the coffee table to pick up a pack of cigarettes. With a trembling hand he fished one out and lit it.

"Do you really think it's a good idea to smoke considering your breathing problems?" Sam bit his lip. He had no idea what had made him ask that. He was just glad that Dean wasn't around. His brother would kick his ass for this one.

But seriously, this guy needed a closed-circuit breathing apparatus to keep breathing. And he was still smoking? How screwed was that?!

"I've been smoking for nearly eighty years now. If it hasn't kill me yet, I think I'm safe." Henderson replied dryly. He took a deep drag from his cigarette and then started his tale.

"Forty years ago I was a hunter myself. And a good one too. There wasn't anything in these woods that I couldn't kill. Until I saw it." He paused for a moment and took another drag at his cigarette. "It was huge. Bigger than any man I had ever seen. It wasn't wearing any clothes and his skin … his face … it was not human, I can tell you that. T'was no animal either." He shot a careful glance at Sam, ready to stop his tale and throw the younger man out should he see any doubt or amusement in his eyes. He could find none.

All Henderson saw was a young man who listened to him intently, with a look of belief in his eyes that Henderson hadn't seen directed at him for a long time. Taking a deep breath, he went on.

"It had long black hair, like the Indians. That's why I thought it might have been one. Though I'd never seen an Indian eat another human being."

"You saw him eating a human?" Sam cut in surprised. He had never heard a witness report like this before. Usually a Wendigo caught his prey and brought it to its cave where it would keep it for save keeping until it was time for dinner.

"Damn straight I saw it." Henderson continued. "It sank its teeth in the poor guy's body and ripped out flesh and skin and who knows what else. I didn't dare to move. It was in that moment that I realized what had happened to those four hunters. Bear attack my ass! That thing was what killed'em and I wasn't going to become its next victim. So I stayed hidden." A flash of shame and guilt flickered in Henderson's eyes. Even after forty years he hadn't forgiven himself for not doing anything.

"You did the right thing." Sam assured him, knowing at the same time that it wouldn't help. "It would have killed you too."

"Should have stopped it, is what I should've done. Or die trying at the very least." A grim smile crept on his face. "But something else took care of that for me."

"What?" Sam's head snapped up. "Something else?"

"Yeah. It came out of nothing and it … enveloped this … thing. Whatever it was."

"A Wendigo." Sam said quietly. "From the way you described it, I'd say you saw a Wendigo."

"A Wendigo." Henderson slowly repeated the word. "I never had a name for it. Didn't even know it had one." Thoughtfully he looked at Sam.

"Not many people know what it is. And even less have seen one and survived it." Sam said quietly.

"And how does a reporter from the New York Post know about … Wendigos?" The old man looked at Sam intently, as if trying to figure out if he could trust him.

Henderson didn't know it, but Sam was trying to figure out the same. Eventually he made up his mind. Dean might kill him for it afterwards, but the younger Winchester was certain that should he keep up their cover story, Henderson would look right through him.

"I don't work for the New York Post." Sam said, his voice sounding steady and his eyes holding the intent glare of Henderson.

"You don't say." The old man smirked. "And who do you work for?"

"No one really." Sam replied. "My brother and I kinda took over the family business." _For the time being anyways. Stanford was still waiting._ "We're hunters."

"Hunters, huh?" Henderson cocked a brow at Sam. "I take it you don't hunt normal deer."

"No, we don't. We hunt Wendigos and every other supernatural being that you can think of." _And a few more than that._

"Other?" Henderson asked surprise.

"More than you want to know." Sam sighed. _More than he could ever forget even if he tried for the rest of his life. _

"Like the Boobooshaw?" Henderson asked after a moment of silence.

Here we go, Sam thought. "Yeah, like that."

"Did you ever see it?" The old man asked in a whispered voice.

Sam squirmed uncomfortably on his armchair. "Actually, until a few days ago, I've never even heard about it. So anything you can remember, anything you can tell me about it could be important."

Henderson stayed quiet for a moment, thinking of a time forty years ago. "It was black, a dark, deep black. Like … nothing. It was like staring into nothing."

Sam could hear the fear dripping from the old man's voice as he talked about his encounter with the Boobooshaw. As ridiculous as the name sounded, whatever that creature was, it could apparently be strong enough to kill a Wendigo.

"What else do you remember?" Sam urged him to go on.

"It had eyes. In all that blackness, I saw two glowing red eyes. They looked … evil. It was moving fast and quiet like a shadow. It scared the hell out of me."

"Did you just see it this one time?" Sam inquired. He was wracking his brain trying to figure out what kind of creature they could be dealing with here. He had never heard of anything like this before.

Again Henderson hesitated before he replied. "I saw it once more. In town."

"Here? You saw it in this town?" Sam asked surprised.

"I told people, I did. They wouldn't believe me. Called me crazy." With an angry move, he stubbed out his cigarette. "They blamed the Majovic's kid."

"Who?"

"Jurij Majovic. A nice kid, helped me with the garden from time to time. He kept to himself mostly, don't think he had many friends. He was working for Harry Beech's store back then. Not for long though. People didn't trust them. Mostly because of his mother I think. She's a witch, I'm telling you."

For a split second, Sam wondered if he should take the comment about Jurij's mother being a witch seriously. "What happened to him?"

"Officially?" Henderson let out a harsh laugh. It sounded bitter. "He ran off. Had enough of this life and vanished to live in the big city. No one ever saw him again."

"And what's the unofficial story?" Sam asked quietly.

A flash of pain and guilt once again flickered across Henderson's face. "I tried to tell them. I really did. But they wouldn't believe me. There were too many and I couldn't stop them."

"Stop them from what?" Sam held his breath. He had a bad feeling he knew where this was going.

"Kids were disappearing back then. Lots of them. One minute they're playing out in the yard, next minute they're gone. I knew it was this thing. The Boobooshaw. But no one believed me. Jurij was seen a few times near the houses at the time the kids disappeared. So they started blaming him. People never trusted him. They didn't like him. Always looking for reasons to pick on him. This was their perfect chance." Henderson exhaled deeply. "Then the Sheriff's kid went missing as well. He was the only one that could have protected Jurij. But when his Shelly vanished, he lost his mind. He went after Jurij and it didn't take long for other people to follow him. They hunted him down, beat him up and then … they hanged him."

"That's awful." Sam swallowed. He hadn't even been born forty years ago, heck, his parents hadn't even known each other then, and still he felt somehow guilty that he couldn't have stopped Jurij Majovic death. Ridiculous, he knew that, but he couldn't help the feeling. He was sure that the boy had been innocent. "When you saw the … Boobooshaw, did you see it near any of these houses?"

"Sure did. It was hiding in the woods, waiting. All the houses the kids vanished from directly adjoined to the Reddick Forest. I knew it was this thing. But no one believed me." He paused a moment. "Do you?"

"Yes, I do."

Henderson nodded slowly. "You're gonna stop it?"

"I'm going to try."

"Or die trying." Henderson whispered.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." Sam cleared his throat. "Is there anything else you remember?"

The old man shook his head. "That's about all."

"Well, you helped us a lot, Mr. Henderson. I can't thank you enough." Sam got up. "At least now we know what we're dealing with." _They just needed to find out how to kill that son of a bitch._

"You think it's really back? That the Boobooshaw killed Tobias and the others?"

"Yes, I do. The killings we know of started about a year ago, right? What about the years in between? Did you ever notice anything like this? Strange vanishings, that couldn't really be explained by bear attacks or something like that?" Sam asked.

"No." Henderson shook his head. "Nothing. The killings stopped after Jurij died. People took that as another proof that he had taken the children and probably killed them."

"If I can help it there won't be another death. Thank you for your help."

Sam shook the older man's hand and then moved to leave. He had just reached the door of the living room, when he turned to Henderson one last time. "Oh, and, um, the lake Campbell's Bluebird was recovered from? That's Coniston Water."

Dumbfounded, Henderson looked at Sam for a moment. Then he broke out into a hoarse laughter.

Smiling Sam left Old Henderson's house. This trip had been more useful than he had anticipated. Now he just needed to convince Dean that the Boobooshaw was their best lead. And if he could keep a serious face long enough for every time he had to use the word Boobooshaw, then he might actually accomplish that.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for reading and a special thanks to my reviewers. I'm always happy to receive feedback :o)**

**And thanks to Kaz for her fantastic beta'ing. It made this chapter so much better!!!**

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Impatiently, Dean paced the motel room. It had taken him ten minutes to pack their bags for the Wendigo hunt. It was a habit born of necessity that he could quite easily have done in his sleep. Once he was finished , he reached for his father's journal with the intent of scanning its pages for more information about the Wendigo. Not that he didn't already know everything their Dad had written about them. Their father's journal was packed with all sorts of knowledge and even after killing one only a few months ago, Dean felt that it would better to be safe than sorry in reading his father's notes one more time. Plus, reading John Winchesters scrawly handwriting always had a calming effect on him. Not today though. With a heavy sigh Dean put the journal down. He still felt on edge. His hazel eyes skimmed the interior of their hotel room, once again noticing the kitten possessed décor. He had been too long in this room surrounded by various depictions of kittens. No one in their right mind could stay in this room for too long and not go stir crazy. 

And where the hell was Sam?

Cursing his brother for being away for so long, Dean reached for the laptop and snapped the top open. He read everything Sam had researched about the creature. For half an hour he searched through all the sites Sam had book marked and hardly any of them gave information that was relevant. Some of the sites consisted of gossip and second hand sightings of someone knowing someone else who had met someone who claimed to have seen the Boobooshaw. There wasn't a single reliable witness report. No wonder Sam hadn't wasted a second thought about this thing. Too bad Mitzy had brought it up again.

Dean searched the net further, trying to find any references to this thing outside of Wisconsin but couldn't come up with anything. What more proof did his geek brother need to accept that this thing wasn't real?

Turning the computer off, he started pacing the room again.

He was just contemplating to use the wall paper kittens as targets for a long overdue knife throwing training session, when a knock on the door stopped him. Letting out a disappointed growl, Dean put the knife back under his pillow. With two quick strides he reached the door and opened it. Outside Mitzy Dayton was standing, a wide grin on her lips.

"You still want to pay a visit to Tobias' cabin?" She asked.

At first Dean was too stunned to reply. Due to the weather they hadn't been able to visit any places where the victims had been found. Tobias had only been found because two lumbermen had stumbled over his body. He and Sam had already accepted that their work here would mostly involve research and talking to the town's people. Sam had loved it of course.

Taking the younger man's silence as a yes, Mitzy brushed passed him and continued talking. "I spoke with Leonard Parker today. He's willing to bring you up there for a small fee but that shouldn't be a problem, right?"

"Does he accept Visa?" Dean asked having finally found his voice again.

"Sure." Mitzy nodded.

"Then there's no problem." Dean grinned satisfied.

"Good. Leonard said he won't be able to land directly next to Tobias' cabin but there's a clearing about ten minutes from there where he can get down."

Dean paled. _Get down? Land?_ "How exactly is Leonard planning to bring us there?"

"With his helicopter of course."

"Oh …" Dean swallowed and sat down on the bed. He had imagined more of a special truck or something that they could use.

"You okay?"

"Um, yeah, it's just … uh …" How could he possible get out of this one without admitting that he was afraid of flying? Officially Dean Winchester wasn't afraid of anything. Unofficially was a whole other business though.

Shivers ran down his spine as he remembered the one and only time he had stepped foot into a plane. It had nearly crashed while both he and Sam were onboard. If it hadn't been for Sam keeping his cool and exorcising the demon from the pilot, whilst Dean had been clinging to the cabin screaming his lungs out, neither of them would be alive today. It hadn't been one of his proudest moments and the nightmares still haunted his sleep as a continuous reminder of the terror he had felt that day.

He really didn't want to fly and would've preferred not to have had a repeat performance but before Dean could say anything else the door to the motel room opened and Sam stepped in.

"Mitzy, hi." Sam exclaimed, surprised by their unexpected visitor.

"Sam, hello. I was just telling Dean that I found you a way up to Tobias' cabin." Mitzy greeted him with a smile.

"Really? That's fantastic. How?" Sam asked excitedly.

"In a helicopter." Dean choked out before Mitzy could reply.

"Wow, great. When can we … oh." Sam had noticed Dean's pale appearance and suddenly remembered his brother's fear of flying. This would complicate things a bit. "Um, when could we leave?" He tried not to sound too excited about their new mode of transport for Dean's sake.

"Leonard said he could fly you up tomorrow morning." Mitzy replied, her smile fading a bit. She sensed that something was wrong. "It that a problem?"

"No, not at all. It's perfect. Thanks Mitzy." Sam smiled.

Dean remained quiet.

"Good. Then I let Leonard know you're meeting him tomorrow. If I can do anything else, let me know."

"We will, thanks."

Sam waited until Mitzy had left before he turned to his brother. "Dean …"

"No way in hell are we getting on that helicopter, Sam!"

"Dean, we …"

"No, Sam. No way!" Dean fumed as he jumped off the bed and began to pace the room reminding Sam of a caged animal.

"We don't need to see that freaking cabin anyway." Dean went on. "We already know what we're hunting. We take the impala, drive as far as we get and walk the rest. Eventually we'll find the Wendigo tracks and torch the son of a bitch. We've done it before Sam."

"Dean …"

"What Sam?!"

"It's not a Wendigo." Sam said softly.

"You don't know that." Dean objected angrily. "Just because you're convinced it's that Poobear doesn't mean …"

"The _Boobooshaw_ killed the Wendigo, Dean." Sam continued, interrupting his brother. "Forty years ago." He finished, letting the sentence hang in the air. He was secretly satisfied that he had stunned his brother into silence and that for once Dean was at a loss for a smart comeback or retort.

"What?"

"Old Henderson saw it." Sam explained and re-told Dean what the old man had said to him.

"And you take that as proof that the Boobooshaw is real? Come on, Sam, I thought you were smarter than that." Dean snorted once Sam was finished.

"The Wendigo is dead, Dean. What else could it be?" Sam asked, exasperated by Dean's reluctance to even consider that the Boobooshaw might be real.

Dean thought for a moment and then snapped with his fingers. "A spirit." He stated matter-of-factly.

"A spirit?"

"The spirit of Jurij Majovic to be exact. He was hanged by an angry mob, Sam. If that's not enough reason to turn evil, nothing is."

"You think Jurij is killing all these people?" Sam asked.

"Yep. Every victim was old enough to have been there when Jurij died and I bet they were all only too happy to participate in hanging him. After all, the guy killed the children." Dean said triumphantly. "Now we just need to find his grave and do a normal every day salt and burn. Case closed." Grinning Dean slapped his brother on the shoulder. "And then we can finally leave this hick town."

Sam was still hesitant and unsure. "I don't know Dean. Henderson didn't believe that Jurij was guilty."

"Mitzy said it herself. The guy's crazy. Look, we burn the sucker tonight and you can check the cabin tomorrow if that makes you feel better. I'll have our bags packed when you're back."

Sam didn't know what to say. Dean didn't often make compromises and the younger Winchester was surprised that his older brother would let him go up there on his own – that was definitely a first one.

"The Wendigo is dead and the Poopguy obviously doesn't exist, so not even you can run into any trouble up there." Dean said as if he had read his brother's mind. "Just make sure to say Christo in front of the pilot before you get onto the helicopter."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine, we'll do it that way." There was no need arguing when he got exactly what he wanted. "Let's go then."

"Where to?"

"We still need to find out where Jurij is buried." Sam said with a raised brow.

"Oh right. Okay, let's go." Dean grabbed his jacket and followed his brother out of the room.

XXXXXXX

It was around midnight when Sam and Dean found their way to Jurij Majovic's grave. Dean had decided to let Sam do most of the digging. Seeing that Dr. Lurich had given the younger Winchester a clean bill of health, and considering Dean had to do their last salt and burn all by himself, he thought it was only fair that his brother should be doing most of the work.

The only downside to Sam having half dug the grave and sweating profusely in the process, discarding his jacket and sweater and was even now only working in a t-shirt, was that he was now warm as a result while Dean, being the supervisor and doing nothing, had a hard time stopping his teeth from chattering. He was standing guard next to the grave, the shotgun ready should Jurij's spirit decide to show up – and damn was it cold!

They hadn't seen any snow for days, but that didn't mean that winter was over. His breath was visible as small white clouds in the air. It was freaking freezing!

"You need a break?" He finally asked, having had enough of standing out in the cold. He tried to sound not caring and hoped that his brother would gladly hand him the shovel.

"No, I'm almost done." Sam replied from out of the grave.

"Great." Dean sighed.

A few minutes later a clanking sound announced that Sam had reached the coffin.

"About damn time." Dean mumbled. He looked forward to the fire that would warm him for at least a few minutes.

He watched Sam climb out of the grave and reach for the gasoline. Dean prepared himself – this was usually the moment the spirits decided to show up.

Nothing happened.

Sam poured the gasoline over the remains of Jurij Majovic, added the salt and lit the fire. They never saw a sign of Jurij.

"Well, that was easy." Dean announced. He held his hand out over the flames to get some feeling back in them. Next time he would have to remember to bring gloves.

Sam started shivering next to him and put on his sweater and jacket again. "You think this was it?" He asked.

"Yeah." Dean replied. "I only wish we had found out about this earlier. Then we wouldn't have had to stay in this backwater town for a whole week."

Sam only shrugged in response. He still wasn't sure that it was over. This had been to easy. It never was this easy.

The brothers watched in silence as the flames died down and then started filling up the grave. This time Dean had grabbed the shovel and Sam held the lamp to light him. 20 minutes later they were back on their way to the motel.

"Tomorrow it's time to say bye to this kitten nightmare." Dean grinned happily as he closed the motel room door behind them.

Sam still wasn't convinced.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N.: Thanks to Kaz for her wonderful beta'ing and thank you all for reading and taking the time to review. It all means the world to me :o)**

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Sam watched the scenery flow by beneath him. It looked breathtakingly beautiful. It was still early and the morning fog lay over the forest. Even if he would return empty handed to their motel room, Sam thought, this flight had been worth it. He didn't often get the chance to watch the landscape from so far up.

The only other time he had flown in a helicopter had been when he was about ten years old. He had broken through the ice and had taken an involuntarily dive in a frozen lake. He had been flown to hospital in a helicopter then. Not that he remembered any of that though. The only memory he still had from that day was ice cold water surrounding him. And the painful burning of his lungs when he had taken what he had then believed to be his last breath.

Luckily, it hadn't been and today Sam enjoyed every single moment of the flight. And he sure wouldn't forget anything about it this time.

"We're almost there." Leonard Parker, the pilot, announced. "From the clearing it's a 20 minutes walk to Tobias' cabin."

Sam nodded his understanding. Leonard had already shown him the way on the map before they had took off. The pilot refused to accompany him and show him the way; his reason being that he didn't want to leave his helicopter alone. Sam was glad that the older man hadn't heard Dean's comment about a cunning fox taking over the helicopter.

Leonard's eyes had said something else though – he had looked almost scared to enter the forest. Sam was probably lucky if the man would wait for him on the clearing and wouldn't just abandon him here.

They landed without problems and after making sure that he had everything in his duffle bag that he needed, Sam started his walk to Tobias Jackson's cabin.

XXXXXXX

Packing their belongings in order to leave took Dean even less time than to pack for a Wendigo hunt. That left him with a lot of time to kill until Sam returned. Knowing his brother, Sam would search every inch of that cabin and its surroundings for even the smallest trace of something supernatural. Something other than a spirit anyway.

So Dean didn't really expect his brother to come back before early afternoon; Sam was nothing if not thorough.

Pine Creek owned one small bar at the other end of town and even though there wouldn't be many guests at this hour, Dean decided to pay it another visit. If nothing else, he could spend the time playing pool – if necessary only with himself. Or maybe, if he was lucky, that red-headed waitress would be there for Dean to flirt with. Either way it sounded a lot better than spending another few hours in this room.

Determined to end his visit in Pine Creek with a little bit of fun, Dean grabbed the car keys and left the room.

XXXXXXX

After nearly slipping on the wet forest floor for the third time, Sam cursed the fact that he had ever heard of the Boobooshaw. If it hadn't been for that crazy killing shadow thing, Sam would be sitting warm and comfortable in the Impala, listening to Dean's music that his brother always played too loud. Not that Sam would want to have it any other way. His brother's music blaring through the Impala's speakers was as much part of Sam's childhood memories as waking up in the same warm bed every morning was for other children. It made him feel home, as weird as that sounded.

But he wasn't in the Impala and the only sounds that reached his ears where the sounds of the forest. And okay, he had loved the flight up here and he usually loved the quietness of nature, but he could have done without this walk. It was cold, the ground was slippery and five minutes into his walk it had started to drizzle. He would give anything for a hot shower right about now.

When the cabin finally appeared in his sight, Sam let out a relieved sigh. Finally!

XXXXXXX

Dean saw the car the moment he pulled into the parking lot. A black Mustang, probably 64, maybe 65. Dean knew a classic when he saw one.

Whistling, he got out of the Impala and went to take a closer look. Who would have thought that in a town like Pine Creek there would actually be a car like this. Of course it was nothing compared to the Impala, but it definitely beat the average truck and family van that were being driven around here.

Maybe the Mustang belonged to the red-haired waitress – she looked like she had taste. And wouldn't that just make his day?

Smiling, Dean stepped into the bar. As expected there weren't many customers. Two men were sitting at the bar, too far away from each other to have come here together, and one lonely old guy sat hunched against the wall in a dark corner. The jukebox was quietly playing some country music. And the red-haired waitress was cleaning glasses behind the bar. Today really seemed to be his lucky day.

"Hi." Dean greeted her as he walked up to the bar. "Shelly, right?"

"It's nice to be remembered …" Shelly hesitated a moment. "Dan."

"Dean." The older Winchester corrected her, not letting this small mistake ruining his mood. ""Not much business that time of the day."

"No, it's not." Shelly replied. "But Greg, the owner, he still wants the bar to be open 24 hours a day. Some lonely soul is always going to find his way in here and who are we to refuse them a nice cold beer." She laughed. "At least that's Greg's philosophy."

"I think I like Greg." Dean grinned. "So, you got a beer for this lonely soul?"

"Sure, here you go." Smiling, Shelly put a bottle of beer in front of him. "Though you don't exactly strike me as the lonely type of guy."

"I don't see any company around me." Dean quipped. "Thanks for the beer."

He took a long drag and enjoyed the liquid running down his throat. He could vividly imagine Sam rolling his eyes at seeing him drinking beer in a bar at this hour. His little brother never really knew how to have fun.

"Do you know who that Mustang outside belongs to? It's a great car." Dean said. He really hoped it would be hers.

"That'd be mine." A deep voice that definitely didn't belong to Shelly answered him.

Dean looked up to see one of the men at the bar holding his beer bottle up in greeting.

"You know anything about cars?" The man asked.

"Do I know anything? Heck, I practically grew up in a car." Dean grinned. "I drive a 67 Impala."

"So that's yours." The man whistled. "I've seen your car in town a few times. D'you mind?" He pointed at the empty chair beside Dean.

"No, not at all. I'm Dean." Dean held his hand out.

"Carl." The man introduced himself and shook the offered hand. "So what brings you to a town like this?"

"Business." Dean replied. "I'm a reporter."

"You're here because of these killings? I heard it was a bear." Carl said.

"That has to be one hell of a bear then." Dean smirked. "What about you? What brings you here?"

"I'm just cruising around, really." Carl replied. "I lost my wife a while ago and I couldn't bare to be in that empty house any longer. So I took the car and left. I want to see something of the country. Mary would have loved that."

Dean swallowed down the lump in his throat at hearing the name. Even after 22 years just hearing her name conjured up the image of his mother. "Mary …" He savoured the name. "That's a beautiful name."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman." Carl said softly, apparently lost in his own thoughts for a moment.

"What happened?" Dean asked carefully. It wasn't always appropriate to ask that question, but at the same time it was impolite to not ask either. It was in moments like this that he was glad his brother had returned to hunting – despite the circumstances that had lead to that decision. Sam was simply a lot better at these things.

"It was a long time ago." Carl replied evasively.

Dean understood. Drop the subject and move on to the next one. "So, your car …" He grinned. What better topic was there for men to talk about?

XXXXXXX

Sam had thoroughly searched the cabin and the surroundings for the last two hours. He had even found the spot were Tobias had died. Even though most of the traces had been washed away by the rain, broken off branches and squashed bushes still bore witness to what had taken place here.

If Sam hadn't seen the photos of Tobias Jackson's body, he might have believed that a bear had killed him. But he had never heard of a bear doing that kind of damage to a human.

The body didn't indicate a bear attack, but the place where Tobias had died didn't exactly pointed towards a spirit either. Spirits didn't break branches or squash bushes. Some of these may have come from Tobias, but no way could he be responsible for all of this.

Casting a last look around the place, Sam returned to Tobias' cabin. He had found some diaries that he wanted to have a closer look at. Something wasn't adding up and Sam was determined to figure out what that was. He wanted to skim through the journals quickly before he returned to the helicopter. Once he was back at the motel he would have a hard time convincing Dean to stay for a little while longer without having real proof.

Opening the first journal, Sam started reading.

_August 8__th__, 1966_

_Two weeks have passed since the dreadful day that Jurij died. Two weeks and I'm still dreaming about it. I can't forget the look of pure horror on his face when Jim put the sling around his neck. I still hear Henderson screaming at us to stop. That Jurij was innocent. That someone else, no something, had taken the children. We didn't believe him. I didn't believe him. And with Henderson shouting at us and Jurij screaming for his mother, we hanged him. _

_No trial, no hearing, no interrogation. We grabbed him and we hanged him. _

_I was part of that. I took another man's life. Will I ever forget? Will I ever be able to forgive myself? Will God forgive me? _

_Do I deserve forgiveness? _

_October 29__th__, 1966_

_I was in town today. Everything was so … normal. Everyone is making preparations for Halloween. I even saw a few kids already running around in their costumes. The town's safe again for them. _

_I spoke to Harry. He said that no children had been taken since Jurij died__. Is that __proof__enough? Was he really guilty? Did we do the right thing? _

_I saw his mother on my way back. She was standing on a hill, watching the town. She looked as beautiful as ever. But her eyes had changed. They were filled with hate. And this hate was directed at the town. _

_I didn't talk to her. I just walked away quickly. _

_March 13__th__, 1967_

_Mitzy is back. I saw her in town today. I didn't dare approach her – one look at me and she would have known what I had done. I'm glad she wasn't there that day. _

_I heard her talking about Chicago and how exciting a town it was. She talked a lot about the murder cases she wrote about. And people listened to her. As if they have forgotten the murder that had taken place in their own town. _

_I can't forget. I still dream about it every night. I thought the solitude of the forest would make it easier. Maybe it's not supposed to get easier? Does it make me a better man than them that I can't forget? _

_Harry said that Mitzy is asking for me. Where I am, if something has happened. Of course no one tells her the truth. _

_I miss her. I miss talking to her, listening to her, looking at her. Does she feel the same way? Had she ever? I want to go to her, but I can't. Not anymore. _

Sam put the journal down. He wondered if Mitzy and Tobias had had some kind of relationship? He couldn't really imagine the older woman with a man, but maybe something in the past had made her that way? Then again, if she had once loved Tobias Jackson, how could she had looked at his damaged body in the morgue? Or had love turned into hate and then callousness when he had left without a word?

Sam chuckled. If Dean knew what he was thinking, he would never let him live it down.

A glance at his watch told him that almost three hours had passed since he had arrived at the cabin. Feeling immediately guilty for letting Leonard wait so long, Sam quickly collected the journals and put them in his duffel bag. He would finish them later in the motel. That was, if he could convince Dean to stay a bit longer. He still didn't have any more proof than before. But he still had the feeling that they were missing something.

XXXXXXX

Leonard Parker was a patient man. He had been running his helicopter business for almost twenty years now. It hadn't been easy in the beginning, but today he was making enough money to not worry about his pension and still be able to afford to go on vacation with his wife. This year they were going to Europe. Greta, his wife, had been dreaming to go oversees since they had started dating in High school. And now her dream would finally come true.

Leonard was used to waiting for his clients. Spending three hours deep in the forest wasn't something he liked doing, especially with the killings the last few months, but it brought him good money, so he wasn't complaining.

He was still relieved though when his client, a reporter from New York, finally returned. Sam Lane was a nice guy and Mitzy had vouched for him and his partner. They were paying good money, less than he usually took from people, but with this bear on the loose, or whatever it was that was doing all these killings, people weren't so eager to be flown out into the woods for a hiking trip. So when Mitzy had asked him for this favour, he hadn't hesitated to say yes.

"You found what you've been looking for?" Leonard asked the young man as he climbed into the helicopter.

"I'm not sure yet." Sam Lane replied. "I'm sorry for the long wait. I hadn't realized how much time has passed."

"And I hadn't realized that Jackson's old cabin could be so interesting." Leonard laughed and handed Sam a headset. "Here, put these on."

"Thanks." Sam replied politely.

A few minutes later they were back in the air. Out of the corner of his eye, Leonard watched how Sam was reading in an old, worn looking journal. He wondered if it had belonged to Tobias?

Leonard didn't have time to ponder about this question for too long though, as suddenly several alarms started beeping and the helicopter began to shake erratically.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked alarmed.

"I don't know. This … Hell, this can't be!" Leonard hit the displays with the palm of his hand a few times. "I don't understand this." He cursed under his breath and hit several buttons to find the problem.

A moment later the engine died and the helicopter rushed towards the ground.

"Hold on!" Leonard shouted.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N.: Thank you all for your wonderful feedback; it's always highly appreciated and you make my day with leaving me these little notes. :o) **

**Great thanks to Kaz for beta'ing this chapter. **

**I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Enjoy the holidays :o) And before I forget ... the Winchester have left their special christmas wishes for all of you; you'll find it here: http:(slash)(slash)supernaturalspn(dot)proboards51(dot)com(slash)index(dot)cgi?boardgeneral&actiondisplay&thread1198446436**

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Anxiously, Dean's eyes wandered back to the clock on the wall for the fifth time in the last few minutes. He was nervous, though he had no idea why. Sam had been gone for about four hours and Dean didn't really expect him to be back anytime soon. Still, his brother's absence bothered him. For the last half hour a bad feeling that he couldn't explain had started building in his gut. He hoped Sam would return soon. Dean had never been good at waiting. 

Another 30 minutes later Dean cursed himself for letting his brother ever leave in the first place.

"Something worrying you?" Carl asked. They had been talking nonstop about cars the last 1 ½ hours and Dean had been all for it, but the older man had noticed that his young companion was distracted by something.

"No. No, it's nothing. I'm just waiting for my … partner to return. It's about time we leave this jerkwater town behind us. No offense." He added quickly as Shelly, the waitress, looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"None taken." She smirked. "Sometimes I wish I could leave here too."

"Why don't you then?" Carl asked.

"This is my home. My husband would never leave and my kids love it here. And it's a lot safer for them here than in a big town." Shelly replied.

On any other day it might have bothered Dean to find out that the hot waitress he had had his eyes on was married with kids. Not today though. He had hardly listened to her, instead his eyes went back to the clock on the wall again.

What was taking Sam so long up there?

"You must get around a lot."

Carl's question pulled Dean out of his thoughts. He hadn't even realized that Shelly had moved away to serve another customer.

"Um, yeah, we do." Dean nodded, slightly annoyed that they had gotten back to talking about his job. He had thought that was behind him. He liked Carl too much to keep lying to him.

"See a lot of the country." Carl went on.

"Yeah." Dean cleared his throat. "Hey, listen, I think I'll be getting back to the motel. Sam is probably already there waiting for me." Dean chuckled at the thought. Here he was waiting for his brother to call him while Sam was sitting in kitten hell waiting for him. He should have thought about that earlier. Though his geek brother could have at least called him to let him know that he was back.

"It was nice talking to you, Dean. Maybe we'll meet again in another town someday." Carl said. "Maybe I'd get to meet your partner then as well."

"Who knows?" Dean gave the older man a forced smile. He didn't think he would ever see him again. He never met people twice who didn't belong in the hunting world. He put some money on the bar and stood up to leave. "Bye."

XXXXXX

Dean was back to pacing the motel room. This time, the kittens hadn't been so lucky. So far, he had already hit three of them straight in the head and he wasn't planning to stop before the whole wallpaper was kitten free.

He walked back and forth, playing with the knife in his hand.

Almost five hours.

That's how long Sam had been gone now. What the hell could he find so interesting in a fresh-water cabin that it took him so long? He better have a good excuse, because Dean was worried, really worried, and he hated to feel that way.

Frustrated he threw the knife into the wall again – again it was a full hit. Though it didn't help to calm his nerves.

He picked up his phone and dialed Sam's number again and as all the times before it went straight to voicemail. Dean knew that his brother didn't have a signal in the middle of the forest but it didn't stop him from calling.

It shouldn't have taken that long. What if Sam had been right? As ridiculous as the name sounded, what if the Boobooshaw was real? What if it hadn't been Jurij's spirit? What if …

A knock on the door interrupted his rambling thoughts and Dean quickly opened it. This better be Sam, Dean thought, because God help him, if anything but a forgotten key kept his brother from finally returning, he would kick his ass.

He flung the door open, a curse for his brother already on his lips – but it wasn't Sam who was standing before him. It was Mitzy.

"Mitzy, hey." Dean forced himself to smile; it faded quickly when he saw the stern expression on the older woman's face. "What's wrong?"

Mitzy hesitated. Searching for the right words, she inhaled deeply before she replied. "I just got a call from Tony. He's working for Leonard's helicopter service."

A feeling of dread spread through Dean as he listened to Mitzy's words. "And?" He asked.

"They received an emergency call from Leonard about half an hour ago. They crashed somewhere in the woods. Their exact location is still unknown."

XXXXXXX

Slowly, Sam returned to consciousness. He felt something hanging around his neck and lifted his hand to pull it away. His arm weighed a ton as he tried to maneuver it around and snag what was around his neck. Touching something metallic he pulled at it. Blinking, Sam looked down at his hands – he was holding something that looked a lot like a headset.

A headset?

Confused he looked around his surroundings; everything looked fuzzy and it took him a few moments to focus on anything. Eventually his vision cleared and he saw trees everywhere.

He was seriously starting to hate trees.

He blinked again and tried to remember where he was.

Obviously in a forest.

Tobias' cabin. He remembered searching the surroundings for any signs of the Boobooshaw. He had returned to Leonard and then …

"Oh shit." Sam groaned. It all came back to him now.

He looked beside him and saw Leonard next to him. His eyes were closed and he had a head wound that was bleeding heavily. Sam wasn't sure, but he thought he saw his chest rise and fall. That would mean he was alive.

He tried to lean over to check for a pulse, but as soon as he moved, a white, hot pain shot up his leg and spread through his body. Sam had to bite his lip so he didn't cry out loud. Tears welled up in his eyes as he gasped for air until finally the pain subsided. It wasn't gone, but at least it was bearable again. Or at least near to bearable.

Once his breathing returned to normal and the black dots that had been dancing in front of his eyes vanished, Sam took a closer look at his leg. He didn't like what he saw. A sharp piece of metal was stuck in his thigh; it still was a part of the helicopter, and as a result Sam couldn't get his leg out.

Carefully he tried to pull the metal out of his thigh, but as soon as he moved it only a little bit, the pain returned and Sam nearly doubled over in pain. More blood was coming out of the wound and Sam desperately tried to find something to stop the bleeding. Eventually he ripped apart his shirt and strapped it tightly around his leg, right above the wound. It hurt like hell, but at least it would stop the bleeding. Or at the very least slow it down.

"Leonard?" He croaked; he was surprised at how weak his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and called for the other man again.

He didn't get an answer.

Sam took a few deep breaths to force down the panic that was building inside of him. He had been in a helicopter crash. He had survived, but his pilot was unconscious and he had no idea if anyone knew where they were. For that matter, _he_ didn't even know where they were.

Dean was so going to kill him for this.

With a shaking hand he reached for the radio. If he could call for help, it shouldn't take long for anyone to find them here.

"Mayday, mayday. Can anyone hear me?" Sam asked, forcing his voice to sound steady and clear.

He only received static as an answer.

He tried several different channels, but the result was always the same. The freaking radio was dead.

"Great." Sam groaned. He rested his head against the wall and winced when he became painfully aware of a bump at the back of his head. He closed his eyes in frustration and tried to think of a way out of here.

The radio was dead.

His pilot was unconscious.

And he couldn't get out of the helicopter.

He was screwed.

XXXXXXX

"I'm telling you, this is not where they are!" Dean impatiently said for the umpteenth time. No one had listened to him so far and it didn't look like they were going to do so now.

"Mr. Kent, I understand that you are worried about your partner, but I know these woods better than anyone. I have studied Leonard's flight plan and his plan says that he was going to Sector B – which is this area. His emergency call came only a few minutes after he took off, so he still has to be somewhere here." Sheriff Clayton Parsings pointed angrily on the map between him and Dean Kent. Ever since this reporter had showed up with the rest of the search team, they had done nothing but arguing. Who was this city boy that he thought he could tell him how to handle this?

"Well, then Leonard's flight plan is wrong." Dean hissed. "Because Sam went to see Tobias Jackson's cabin and that cabin is here." He put extra emphasis on the last word and pointed as angrily on another section of the map as Clayton Parsings had done just before him.

"That area is closed to the public because of the bear attacks." Clayton argued.

"Which is exactly why Leonard wouldn't have mentioned it in his flight plan, now would he?" Dean stated impatiently.

"If you are implying that Leonard is anything but an upstanding and honest man then …"

"He is implying nothing of that kind, Clayton." Mitzy interrupted the two arguing man. She was afraid that sooner more than later fists would start flying between them. "Leonard is going to retire soon and he's planning a trip to Europe with Greta. Business didn't go well for him lately, we all know that. He needs the money, that's a fact. And no one here believes in that bear story, so I for one think that it is very possible that Leonard really did change his flight plan in order to bring Sam Lane to Tobias' cabin. And before you start insulting me now …" She threw a threatening glare at Clayton. "… remember that I am one of Leonard's oldest friends. I know him a lot longer and much better than you do and yes, for the money, he would have changed that flight plan."

With a raised eyebrow she glared at the Sheriff, willing him to say anything against her.

Clayton stared at her angrily. He inhaled deeply and then let out a frustrated sigh. "Mitzy, you're going to be my death one day. All right …" He turned back to Dean. "I'll give you one man. I don't want you get lost yourself. And no helicopter. See for yourself how you get up there."

Without another word, Clayton turned around and walked towards a group of men who had watched the exchange between Dean and their Sheriff with unhidden curiosity.

Dean opened his mouth to call after Clayton, but Mitzy cut in before he could say a single word.

"Don't even think about it. You got more than you could have hoped for." She said sternly.

"One man? This area is huge; it could take us days to find him." Dean objected. Angrily he stared at the back of Sheriff Parsings. "If he would just listen to me for one second …"

"The longer you're here debating with him, the longer it's going to take you to find Sam." Mitzy interrupted him. "Go and look for your friend. I'll try to get more people to help you looking."

"Thanks." With a defeated sigh, Dean gave in. She was right, he knew that. But the thought that Sam was somewhere out there in that forest, with god knows how many serious injuries, was driving him insane. And this dickhead of a Sheriff gave him _one _man to look for his brother, while wasting everyone else to search in area Dean _knew _his brother wasn't in.

"Dean Kent?"

Dean turned around and met the stern eyes of a gray-haired man, probably in his sixties.

"I'm Lars Anderson. Clayton told me to help you looking for your partner." The man introduced himself.

Dean forced himself to look at least slightly grateful. "Yeah, I'm Dean. Hi. And thanks. You have a car to get us up there?" He wasn't going to waste any more time with polite conversations.

"Yeah, over there." He pointed at a red truck standing a few feet away. "It won't bring us up the whole way, the street's blocked. We're going to have to walk the rest; it should take us about two hours 'til we reach the cabin. But maybe we're lucky and we find Lenny and your partner before that." He didn't sound very convincing.

"Yeah, maybe. Let's go." Dean already headed towards Lars' truck.

"Good luck!" Mitzy called after him.

Dean didn't hear her. All his thoughts were focused on finding his brother. He would be damned if he wouldn't get Sam out of this woods unharmed.

XXXXXXX

Slowly it crept closer to its prey. It's hunger was so strong that it was overpowering with its intensity and it grew with every death. It wasn't enough what she was giving it. It needed more!

It sniffed the air; it's prey's scent lay heavy in the air. As it came closer, the scent was overlapped by something else - something much more powerful. The greed nearly overtook it. This time, finally, she had given it what it needed.

Closer and closer it came and then it could see its prey. It was trapped – just like she had promised. Its eyes started glowing in anticipation. It wouldn't be hungry for much longer. First it would eat the one moving and then have the other for desert. Just like in the old days.

Suspiciously, it eyed the strange object that held its prey captured for him – but it didn't seem to be any danger for him. Taking in the powerful scent, it crept closer until it could nearly touch its prey.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N.: A bit late, but a Happy New Year to you all :o) **

**A big thank you to Kaz for beta reading this chapter; she has done a fantastic job and as usual, all mistakes are mine. **

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Carefully, Sam tried to move the piece of metal that was stuck in his leg. His attempts sent shards of pain through his body and Sam didn't think that he had the strength to keep trying for much longer. He was cold, tired and afraid that he might go into shock from the blood loss. Despite his efforts, the wound was still bleeding and his attempts to remove the metal weren't helping the matter very much. 

He let his head rest against the back of his seat and looked out at the woods. He wasn't quite sure how much time had passed, but he thought that by now he should have seen some sign of a rescue team. He hadn't even heard a search plane fly over them.

Suddenly he noticed something in the woods. He couldn't see anything, but he had this feeling … something was looming in the shadows and watching him. Straightening up in his seat, Sam remembered what he had read about the Boobooshaw – a shadow like creature, always hungry and always on the hunt; and almost impossible to see until it was too late.

Not taking his eyes away from the trees, Sam reached behind his seat for his duffel bag. He ignored the pain in his leg inflicted by his movement. If he really was being watched, he didn't want to let on that he knew he was. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the bag onto his lap and took out his pistol with the sawed-off double-barrel, Dean's Colt 1911 .45 caliber semi-automatic, that his brother had insisted he take with him, several rock salt cartridges and silver bullets. He quickly loaded his guns; not having to watch what he was doing he could still keep an eye on the woods – his father had made sure that he could load weapons in his sleep. At the time, he had thought that every 10 year old should know about these things; this belief had gotten him into serious trouble with his teacher back then.

He held the weapons ready; and not a moment too soon. Seemingly out of nowhere a black creature appeared out of the shadows and slowly crept forwards towards the crashed helicopter. Sam swallowed; for all the fun Dean had made about the Boobooshaw, he hadn't thought that the sight would actually scare him as much as it did. The creature was solid black; it was as if he was staring into complete nothingness. Two glowing red eyes, which reminded Sam a lot of the devil himself, were the only sign that this thing was alive – or as alive as something like the Boobooshaw could be.

Sam tightened his grip around the double-barrel, at the same time he glanced down at the Colt on his lap. He noticed his mistake too late, it only took the creature this one second of unattention for preparing its attack. When Sam looked up again, it had already reached the helicopter and in the blink of a moment it jumped on Sam, ripping the gun from his hand. The Boobooshaw's head – and Sam was most certain that this thing was indeed the Boobooshaw – was so close to Sam that he could feel its breath on his face. He didn't dare move, let alone take in air; maybe if he kept frozen, this thing wouldn't realize he was still alive.

The sniffing sounds coming from the Boobooshaw told Sam that this belief had been useless.

He stared at the creature with wide eyes; his panic rising to a complete new level when the Boobooshaw opened its mouth and large, sharp teeth were revealed. He tried freeing his hand that still held the Glock, but the Boobooshaw noticed the movement and immediately drove its claws into Sam's arm. He had to grit his teeth to not scream out loud.

The Boobooshaw's head moved closer to his face and Sam could swear that the look of evil and hunger had intensified within seconds. The creature had stopped sniffing, instead it put one of its paws on Sam's chest. The grip was so tight that Sam was sure it would rip his heart out any second.

The thought flashed through his mind that this was not how he had imagined to die … somehow he had always believed his brother or father would be nearby. For a while even he had let himself believe that he would die as an old man, after living a long and fulfilled live at Jessica's side.

A sudden coldness spread through his chest and from there through his whole body; it stopped all thoughts of a happy life with a wife and children. The only feelings left were dread, hopelessness and a growing emptiness that seemed to fill every fibre of his body. It felt as if the Boobooshaw was drawing out the very source of his life.

Sam knew then that he would not make it out of here alive.

XXXXXXX

Intently, Dean watched the surroundings as they passed by. He knew that it was impossible for Sam to be anywhere that close to town, but he could not _not_ look. They had been driving for about 20 minutes and already Dean was running out of patience. He wished he had insisted on driving himself; not that he knew the area or had any idea of what direction they had to take, but at least it would have kept his mind occupied. As it was, he had already imagined at least ten different scenarios of how his little brother could have died in the helicopter crash.

He didn't really believe in God and he hardly ever prayed, but if there was a God, Dean thought it wouldn't hurt to ask him to make sure that Sam was all right. So he sent regular prayers up to heaven, hoping against all reason that it might make a difference.

"How long have you and your partner been working together?" Lars Anderson asked. He was the only one who had been willing to help Dean look in this part of the woods.

"Several years." Dean swallowed. More like his whole life. He couldn't believe that he had let Sam out of his sight. He had vowed not to do that again when they had left Stanford the second time – after Jessica's death and after the thought that he had nearly lost his brother to a fire just like their Mom.

"I've known Lenny almost my whole life. His wife was an english teacher and she taught me the language when my parents and I had moved here." Lars said, his eyes never leaving the road ahead of them.

"Where'd you come from?" Dean asked; not that he was really interested, but it kept his mind busy and that was worth having a conversation with a man he would never see again in his life once this was over. And he was helping him find Sam, so Dean thought he owed him some polite small talk.

"Sweden. My parents immigrated here when I was six. I learnt the language a lot faster than they did; advantages of the youth, I guess." Lars replied.

"You remember Sweden?" Dean inquired.

"Not really, just a few images that I can't really relate to. My parents don't talk much about it; they had a hard time there I think." Lars said thoughtfully. "Where are you from?"

Dean didn't even hesitate when he replied. "Born and raised in New York. I fell in love with that town from birth. I never left and getting that job with the New York Post was the best that could happen to me." He and Sam always had their cover story build up thouroughly.

"Did you meet Sam at the Post?"

"No." Dean shook his head. "No, I knew him a long time before that." Okay, that hadn't been part of their fake background, but the words had left his mouth before Dean could even really think about them.

"We'll find him." Lars said after a moment of silence. "If not in this area, then in the one Clayton is leading the search party."

Dean nodded, but didn't say anything. Of course he would find Sam; he wouldn't leave the woods without him.

A few minutes later, Lars pulled to the side of the road and stopped the car. A huge tree stump was blocking the path in front of them.

"This is as far as we can get. The road is flooded a bit higher from here, so we'll have to go around it." Lars told him.

"Okay." Dean nodded and grabbed his duffel bag from the bag seat.

Lars shot him a curious look; he had already asked why Dean wasn't using a backbag like every other member of the search team. Dean hadn't given him an answer then and he wasn't going to get into the matter now.

"Let's go." He said.

XXXXXXX

Gasping for air, Sam kept his eyes closed tightly. He tried to concentrate on anything but this evil creature sucking the life out of him. This thing wouldn't be the last Sam was going to see or think about in his life.

He tried to think of Dean, his father, Jessica, Jade … all the people that meant something in his life. But he couldn't shake the image of the glowing eyes staring at him, the feeling of hot breath on his skin and the pain coming from his chest.

It hurt so much that it was hard to think of anything but that. And with every passing second, Sam felt more disconnected from this life until there was only him and the Boobooshaw left.

He had already given up hope, when suddenly the grip on his chest loosened and the Boobooshaw's head snapped up.

It took Sam a moment to realize that something had changed, but after a moment or two, he forced his eyes to open. Blinking away the black dots dancing in front of his eyes, he saw the Boobooshaw staring at the side of the woods. Sam forced himself to follow his line of sight; at first he couldn't see anything, but after a few moments he thought he saw an old woman standing several feet away. The thought flashed through his mind that he had to warn her, but there wasn't really anything he could do. If he'd yell at her to run it would only draw the creature's attention towards her as well. He just hoped that she had enough sense in her to run away as fast and as far as she could. And maybe get some help for them on the way.

He focused his attention back on the Boobooshaw; it had suddenly let go of him completely and moved over to Leonard. Horrified, Sam watched how the creature put its claw on the pilot's chest, just like it had done with Sam moments before. This time Sam noticed a blue light glowing around Leonard's chest and the Boobooshaw's paw; the creature seemed to take in this light. Sam remembered how he had thought as if his life source had been sucked out of him; maybe he had been right. It would also explain why he suddenly felt weaker than before. He tightened his grip around his gun and lifted his arm to aim at the beast; it felt like it weight a ton.

Breathing heavily, Sam managed to take aim and pulled the trigger. He fired the whole magazine into the creature, but it didn't even blink.

"What the hell …" Sam muttered.

Hectically, his eyes wandered to the barrel the Boobooshaw had ripped away from him. It lay just outside the helicopter, but too far away for him to reach it. His bag had fallen to the ground too and his only chance to grab it would be by pulling his leg out; and he didn't think he would survive the blood loss then; let alone stay conscious long enough once the pain hit him. But he couldn't just sit by and let an innocent man die. He would simply have to take the risk. Inhaling deeply, Sam began to lean out of the helicopter and tried to reach for his bag. He gritted his teeth as a white, hot pain immediately spread up his leg again. Coughing and forcing down the tears in his eyes, he finally managed to reach the bag with his fingertips. Just a few millimetres more …

"Come on." Sam pressed out between breaths.

Suddenly the Boobooshaw let out a terrifying scream and Sam jerked up again and turned to the creature. His eyes widened in horror when he saw Leonard – his face was ashen and haggard, like he had been dead for days. And he looked at least twenty years older.

Before Sam had a chance to grasp what he saw, the Boobooshaw dragged the pilot out of the helicopter and on the ground. Then it drove its claws deeply into Leonard's body and started tearing him up. Blood spluttered on the cockpit window and Sam saw intestines gushing out of his body. His stomach lurched when he saw the creature remove the heart with one quick blow. All of this happened so fast, that Sam had hardly any time to take it all in. And the silence in which all of this took place made it even more terrifying.

After a few minutes – it could have been hours, by now Sam had lost all track of time – the Boobooshaw let go of its prey and disappeared back into the woods.

Sam was left staring at the remains of Leonard Parker. He couldn't stop his hands from shaking as he reloaded the Colt; the silver bullets obviously wouldn't save him, but he needed to do something. A moment later Sam leaned out of the helicopter again and threw up.

XXXXXXX

Lars and Dean walked through the forest in silence. Both of them looked intently for any sign of the missing helicopter. They had been walking for nearly an hour, but still they hadn't found anything.

"How far is Tobias Jackson's cabin away from here?" Dean eventually broke the silence.

Lars looked at the woods for a moment before he replied. "One, maybe two miles further up north. What was your partner trying to find up there anyway? It's not like the body is still lying around there."

"Just doing the job." Dean replied shortly.

"U-hu." Lars looked at Dean from the side, but then decided to drop the subject. It wasn't really any of his business.

"How long have you been living in this town?" Dean asked. Not finding any sign of the helicopter was driving him nuts; he figured trying to find out a bit more information about this job – even though it was a closed matter since the salt and burn – would at least keep him sane.

"About 40 years." Lars replied.

Dean looked at him in surprise. He had thought Lars Anderson to be in his sixties, but this would make him only around 46 years.

"I know, I look older." Lars sighed. "I've been hearing that all my life."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to …"

"No, it's okay." Lars waved him off. "You get used to it after a while."

They stayed quiet for a while longer, but eventually Dean broke the silence once more. Clearing his throat, he tried to ask his next question as careful as possible.

"So, you were already here when they hung Jurij Majovic?" Okay, so he could have been more sensitive about this, but then again, he was running on short nerves.

Lars stopped in his tracks and stared at Dean as if he had lost his mind. "What?"

"Jurij Majovic. Young guy. Coming from an immigrant family like you. Liked to kill children. Got hung by a mob. Ring a bell?" Dean cocked an eyebrow at the older man.

Lars inhaled deeply and glared angrily at Dean. "Why are you bringing this up now?"

"So you do remember." Dean said instead of giving an answer.

"I was six years old." Lars hissed. "Is this your way for thanking people who help you?"

"This is my way of finding out the truth." Dean replied. "This whole town has kept this affair under wraps. And in the end, you got a very angry spirit on the loose."

"A spirit?" Lars stared at the older Winchester in disbelief.

"Oh, I'm sorry, a bear." Dean smirked. He shook his head and decided to drop the matter. There really was no use bringing this up. It was making him feel better to let his anger out, but it wasn't really fair towards the other man. He _was_ the only help Dean had. Without him, he would have never made it this far in this time.

He kept walking a few feet when he noticed that Lars wasn't at his side anymore. He turned around to find the older man still standing frozen at the spot where he had left him. Sighing Dean walked a few steps back.

"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to …"

"It wasn't a bear." Lars interrupted him, his voice nearly toneless.

"Come again?" Dean looked at him confused.

"What killed those people … it was no bear. And it wasn't Jurij who killed those children back then."

"You don't say." Dean smirked.

Lars stayed quiet for a long moment and Dean was close to shaking him to get an answer – after all, they didn't have all day. Sam was still out there somewhere! But before his patience ran out, the older man started talking.

"The day Jurij died, this … thing took me. It was … it was not from this world. And it definitely wasn't a bear."

"What did it look like?" Dean asked curious.

"It was black, darker than the night. It …"

Before Lars had the chance to finish his sentence, a creature jumped out of the shadows. It ignored Dean and went straight towards the older man, throwing him on the ground and holding him down with its weight.

"Holy shit!" Cursing, Dean pulled out his gun and shot the whole magazine into the beast. Nothing happened. Instead a blue light appeared on Lars' chest.

"What the hell?" Staring at the light, Dean pulled out his second gun, this one filled with rock salt. Again he shot at the creature. And again nothing happened.

And then the light disappeared. The creature let out a shrieking sound before it clawed up the whole upper part of Lars' body. The older man didn't even have a chance to scream; he was already dead. With the bleeding heart in its paw, the creature turned towards Dean and glared at him hungry.

"Oh crap." Dean stared at the creature and pulled out his knife, knowing that there was no way he could win this fight. But he wasn't going to just give up either. "Come and get me, you ugly son of a bitch!"

The Boobooshaw slowly crept closer, but just a few feet in front of Dean it suddenly stopped and the hunger in its eyes turned into complete fury.

Dean grinned satisfied. "That's right, bitch! I won't go down without a good fight." Dean tightened the grip around his hunting knife, ready for the expected attack.

It never came. Instead of lunging itself at Dean, the creature let out another loud, shrieking scream and then disappeared into the woods. Dumbfounded, Dean stared at the empty spot the thing had left.

"Huh …" Confused, he looked at the knife in his hands. He somehow doubted that it had been enough to scare the creature away. But then why had it ran?

Dean looked around himself, just in case that there was something even creepier behind him that had scared the creature off.

There was nothing.

"Awkward." Dean scratched his head and finally allowed himself to relax. He put the knife away and walked the few steps to Lars' body. He didn't think there was anything he could do for him anymore – that thing had ripped out his heart! But he couldn't just leave him here like this either.

His thoughts were interrupted when another scream suddenly echoed through the woods – a human scream. And a very familiar one at that.

"SAM!"

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**A.N.: Thank you all for your wonderful feedback. And a special thanks to Kaz for her fantastic beta'ing on this chapter.**

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Sam hadn't had much luck in reaching for his duffle bag. He tried a few times, pushing his already overstressed body further than the last until he fell back panting onto the headrest of his seat in the helicopter. The movement of reaching for his bag aggravated his leg wound and made it throb like hell. His ribs were protesting with every motion that he made and his skin still burned from where the Boobooshaw had touched him.

_That son of a bitch!_ Sam swore to himself. He vowed that as soon as he figured out how to kill that thing he would send it straight back to hell – truly hoping that it would be a very painful process for the Boobooshaw.

The snapping of a branch nearby pulled his attention back to the present. He quickly turned his head in the direction of the sound and his eyes fell on an old woman who walked straight towards him.

Sam had completely forgotten about her. He remembered seeing her for the first time in the shadows of the woods when the Boobooshaw had let go of him.

Relieved, Sam closed his eyes for a moment; secretly thankful that he wasn't alone. He didn't want to be left alone with a dead body as company, but the relief of having someone else with him eventually turned into concern that she might be in danger as well.

_Just walk on over, see that I'm alright and go and get some help_, he thought. And then he would be out of here in no time.

The woman had reached him now. Her quietness concerned him as she hadn't spoken a single word. Sam thought that she might be in shock from what she had witnessed. It made him even more thankful that she had stayed as some people would've run off screaming from what she had seen.

But when he looked into her eyes, Sam could see that she didn't look scared at all. Not even the least bit worried by what had occurred – and that worried Sam a lot. Her total lack of emotion made him feel uneasy.

"How bad are you hurt?" The woman asked. Her voice sounded strange as if it hadn't been used in a long time.

"I'm okay, except for the leg." Sam replied, purposefully pointing at the piece of metal protruding from his leg.

Nodding, she looked quickly at Sam's leg which had finally stopped bleeding.

"I'm Sam." The young Winchester introduced himself; he felt uncomfortable under the scrutinizing stare of the older woman.

"I'm sorry this happened to you. You have nothing to do with this." She said. Despite her words of comfort and sympathy, her voice sounded cold and heartless to Sam.

"Is there any way you can call for help?" He asked. This woman was starting to creep him out and he wanted nothing more than to get out of these woods. Then once he felt better he would return with Dean and together they would take care of the Boobooshaw.

"He deserved to die, you know." Her gaze was now fixed upon the dead body of Leonard Parker; her eyes filled with hate. "Don't feel sorry for him."

"What?" Sam stared at her, confused; a feeling of dread building in his gut.

"I can't call for help." Her eyes were back on Sam now. "You have to help yourself."

Sam thought he heard a little regret in her voice this time.

"There's a cabin about 20, maybe 30 minutes from here. There's a radio. You could …"

"I'm sorry. I can't." She smiled at him, a smile that was sad and evil at the same time. "I can only help you to get out of this machine."

Before Sam had a chance to realize what she was doing, the woman had reached forward and pulled at the metal that was stuck in his leg.

"No, don't … Aarrgh!" Sam screamed as the pain exploded in his leg, spreading up through his thigh and into his body. And then everything turned black and the pain was gone.

XXXXXXX

Every second felt like eternity as Dean ran through the woods; his heart was beating frantically as he propelled his body in the direction the scream had come from.

It had only been this one scream. And it had definitely been Sam's. One scream; that was it. Dean tried not to think about what that could mean. It could mean anything really.

It could mean that Sam was dead.

No, no way. Dean refused to consider the possibility. Sam was his brother, the most important person in his life. Hell, he had practically raised the kid. He would know if Sam were dead. He would feel it, Dean was sure of that.

One scream, followed by nothing but silence.

Whatever had happened to Sam, it was bad. Dean knew that he was running out of time and he wished that he could run faster. He shouldn't have wasted so much time talking with Lars, accusing him of things that had happened 40 years ago and that he and Sam had already taken care of last night.

God. Had that really been only last night? It felt more like a lifetime had passed since he had last seen Sam.

And they hadn't really taken care of anything, had they? Sam had been right; this creature had been enough proof for that.

And damn, why hadn't he listen to Sam about this? Why hadn't he gone with him to this stupid cabin in this freaking helicopter? So what if he was terrified of flying … he was a thousand times more afraid to lose his brother.

And then he saw the helicopter. It's metal body was broken and strewn about the ground. They really had crashed. The hope Dean had clung to that they only had to make an emergency landing died as he viewed the tortured remains of the helicopter. A moment later he saw the body lying on the ground.

"Sam?" Dean shouted for his brother as he ran towards the body, preparing himself for the worst while at the same time knowing that if this was Sam, he wouldn't leave these woods alive either. And neither would the Boobooshaw.

Walking closer he searched his surroundings. He noted the blood soaked ground and the disembowelled body with a brown jacket that so much resembled the one his brother always wore. He stopped. He didn't want to go on further but he knew that he had to. He had to know if it was…

Walking closer he steeled himself to look up at the face to find it old, wrinkled and haggard.

It wasn't Sam.

His heart felt like it had been dropped from the tenth floor when Dean realized that this wasn't his brother's body. It didn't look much like Leonard Parker either who Dean remembered to be much younger. He didn't waste another thought on this dead guy. His eyes immediately sorted out the crashed helicopter, past the pilot's seat and the blood sprinkled cockpit window – to the slumped body of his brother. His face was ashen and covered with a sheet of sweat; he was barely conscious.

"Sam!"

Dean was at his brother's side in seconds. He saw Sam's bloody arm and the state of his left leg. His jeans were nearly black with the amount of blood that had been absorbed. There was an old cloth wrapped tightly around it to stop further bleeding. Dean was thankful that his brother had been able to do at least that much for himself.

"Sam?" Carefully, Dean shook his brother's shoulder and then gently cupped his face with his hands. "Come on little brother, time to wake up." He tried to coerce Sam back to awareness.

A small groan came from Sam, reassuring Dean it was working.

"Come on, bro, we don't have all day here." Dean went on.

Sam's eyelids fluttered and he tried to move away from the hands holding him. "No, don't …" He muttered; his right arm weakly trying to push Dean's hands away.

"Sam, it's me. Come on, man, open your eyes."

A moment later, two confused weary eyes started to blink at the older Winchester.

"Dean?"

"The one and only." Dean grinned, relieved beyond belief to see his little brother alive and awake.

Slowly, Sam moved his head and looked around. "Where is she?"

"She?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "You had a nice dream there, Sammy boy?"

"What?" Confused, Sam looked at his brother. A moment later he understood and frowned at him. "There was an old woman here. She …" His eyes widened and Sam stared at his leg in panic.

When he didn't continue and his eyes stayed fixed on his leg, Dean cut in. " It's still there, you know."

"She just pulled it out." Sam still stared horrified at his leg.

Dean had no idea what he was talking about. "Sam, your leg is still there, man. You're fine."

"No, the metal …" Sam shook his head to clear his mind. "I was stuck and couldn't get out. And she just pulled this piece of metal out …" Sam swallowed hard at the memory. "I must have passed out."

Dean didn't know what to think of it all. He looked closer at Sam's leg; it really looked bad. And if it was true what Sam was saying, then it was probably even worse than that.

"I take it this isn't from you then." He pointed at the cloth around Sam's thigh.

"No, I thought you did …" Sam looked surprised at his brother.

"I just got here, man." Dean shook his head. "Well, we have to get you out of here. How far is that cabin you were so hell bound to inspect?"

"Not sure, 20, 30 minutes maybe." He sat up with a start. "Oh shit, Dean the Boobooshaw …"

"I know, I saw it." Dean growled. "It's another reason I want to get you out of here as fast as possible. You think you can walk?"

"Yeah." Despite his reply, Sam looked doubtfully at his leg. "I don't know." He admitted a moment later.

"Well, we're about to find out. Come on." Dean took Sam's arm and pulled it around his shoulder. Then he carefully helped his brother out of the helicopter.

As soon as Sam stood upright, all blood rushed down to his legs. The world tilted and then everything turned black.

When Sam opened his eyes, he saw Dean's worried face above him; which felt wrong because usually it was Sam looking down at Dean.

"Did I pass out again?" He asked and his voice sounded strangely slurred.

"Fainted like a girl, you mean." Dean teased, but the concern in his eyes betrayed his words. Gently, he helped Sam to a sitting position. "Just wait here. I'll try to make some kind of stretcher … maybe there's something in the helicopter I can use."

"No way!" Sam objected vehemently. He sat up carefully and slowly, holding onto the helicopter in case his body decided to take another nose dive into the dirt. A wave of dizziness hit him, but after taking a few deep breaths it passed. "I can walk."

"Oh really?" Dean cocked an eyebrow at him. He didn't think he'd need to state the obvious.

"Just give me a moment." Sam mumbled.

Sighing, Dean knelt down in front of Sam. "I appreciate that, really. I don't look forward to carrying you around. But it's going to be dark soon and I don't want to be out here at night while this thing is still at the loose."

"The Boobooshaw." Sam sighed.

"Yeah, we might want to find a new name for it, because I sure as hell won't write Boobieshit into Dad's journal." Dean replied.

"Boobooshaw." Sam corrected him automatically.

Dean's only reply was a cocky grin and Sam couldn't help but smile back, despite everything. As long as they could still joke, it wasn't really that bad, right?

"I can walk." He repeated after a moment. Steadying himself on the helicopter and with a reluctant Dean helping him, Sam managed to stand up. The world started spinning dangerously once more, but after inhaling deeply, Sam felt steady enough to walk.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

"I'm super." Sam replied, giving his brother his own standard reply the older Winchester always used whenever he was pissed and hurt … never a good combination, but it helped to keep moving.

"Okay, then." Dean grinned. He pulled his brother's arm around his shoulder and steadied him with his free hand around the waist.

Slowly, the brothers began their walk towards Tobias Jackson's cabin.

"You know, it would be nice if you would stop getting lost in the woods. It's getting boring after a while."

"I was never lost!"

"Then why do I have to keep looking for you?"

"Ah, shut up."

"You're such a girl, Sammy."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**A.N.: A huge thanks to my beta, Kaz, for always understanding what I'm trying to say and hence making this story so much better. **

**I'm sorry for the long wait between updates again. I'm a terribly slow writer, which partly is to blame on my job I guess - I'm working at a PC 8 hours daily, typing the most time and when I'm home in the evening, typing is the last thing on my mind. And sometimes I'm just too damn lazy. But I can assure you that this story will be finished, I won't just stop posting, that much I can promise.**

* * *

The trip back to the cabin had been arduous. Normally it would have taken them 20 minutes to reach the cabin, but with an injured Sam being dragged and partially carried by his big brother, it took them nearly an hour. By the end of the torturous journey the brothers were nearly breathless. 

Holding his brother upright against the outside of the cabin wall, Dean opened the door and dragged Sam inside. When the cabins' interior warmth enveloped them, Sam immediately collapsed; his exhaustion was evident as he fell heavily against his brother when the last remnants of his body's adrenaline was spent. Cursing under his breath Dean tightened his grasp and pulled Sam to the nearby bed and gently laid him down. Feeling utterly exhausted, Dean then sank down on the floor himself, his back leaning against the bed.

He only allowed himself a moments respite though. He needed to look at Sam's leg wound and also make sure that he didn't have any other serious injuries. Sam had a concussion, the obvious evidence was left on the trail to the cabin. From years of experience Dean knew that he had to wake Sam up every hour or so.

After catching his breath, Dean reached for his duffle bag. Whilst searching through it he shook his brother with his free hand.

"Wake up, Sam!"

A groan and a hand waving weakly through the air was the only reply he got.

"Open your eyes, Sammy, you know the drill." Dean said as he opened the med kit. Rummaging around he found the Tylenol. He wished that he could give Sam something stronger like Advil but with his brother's concussion he didn't want to take the risk. He looked around the room until he found the kitchen. Walking quickly to the sink he searched through the cabinets until he found a clean glass. After filling it with water, he returned to his brother.

The younger Winchester was still lying motionless on the bed, his eyes closed. Suppressing his worries, Dean shook his brother again and carefully slapped his face to wake him up.

"Come on bro, I need you awake for this."

"….at for?" Sam slurred. He peered at Dean through partially opened eyes, then opening them wider and blinking blearily up at him.

"Well, it's a start." Dean sighed. "Here, take these."

He helped his brother lift his head and held the glass to his lips. Then he put two pills into this mouth.

"Wha…" Sam looked at Dean confused.

"Shut up and swallow." Dean ordered.

The younger Winchester followed his order automatically and Dean laid his head back on the pillow.

"You should feel better in a few minutes." He said quietly.

"'kay." Sam nodded and closed his eyes again.

"Hey, keep those open!" Dean nudged his elbow and looked expectantly at his brother until he opened his eyes again. "I need you awake for now. And …" He took a deep breath. "I need to stitch that."

Sam's eyes widened when the meaning of his brother's words sank in. Sighing he resigned himself to the inevitable. It wasn't the first time he had to go through this.

"You didn't think to bring any whiskey, did you?" He asked weakly.

Dean chuckled. "Not this time, Sammy." He swallowed and took out the suture kit from the bag. "You ready?"

Gritting his teeth, Sam nodded and Dean began exploring the wound for any splinters or pieces of metal that might be hidden in the wound. When he couldn't find anything, he reached for the Peroxide, a sterile saline that should clean the wound and prevent an infection.

"This might burn a bit." He warned his brother.

Sam let out a bitter laugh. He'd experienced the "burning bit" too often in his life. "Just go ahead." He forced out, his mind now focused on what was to come.

"Okay, here we go." Dean murmured with a moments hesitation before he washed the wound with the saline.

Sam hissed in pain as the liquid came in contact with his wound, his fists clinging the bedding around him.

"Next time remember this when you decide to get lost again." Dean soothed, trying to distract his brother.

"I didn't … get lost." Sam managed to utter between gritted teeth. The veins in his neck were cording as he tried to breath through the pain.

"Sure, that's why I had to carry your sorry ass through the woods _again_."

"I didn't … get … lost! I crashed." Sam pointed out.

"I told you planes are dangerous." Dean grinned.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Just get this …" Sam stopped, taking a deep breath. "… get this over with." He finished on a sigh, vaguely waving at his leg and the suture kit in his brother's hand.

Dean nodded and turned his attention back to Sam's leg wound. He hated seeing his brother in pain. Even more so he hated being the one inflicting even more pain by patching him up.

"And try not to … leave a too ugly scar." Sam added after a moment, his words coming in short bursts.

"Chicks dig scars." Dean grinned. He was relieved that at least for a short moment he was able to alleviate his kid brother's stress and pain with a few simple words.

"Shut up."

Dean chuckled quietly and then held up the curved needle. "Okay, don't move."

Carefully, he started stitching up the wound, using separate stitches individually knotted. His father had taught him this when he was ten. Back then it had been a defrosted turkey but the principle was the same. When he was twelve, he had sutured a wounded that his father had on his arm. He wasn't scared of doing it. He knew that he had to do it, it was a necessity, but he still hated it.

He felt Sam stiffen underneath his hands and he felt more than he saw Sam's long fingers clenching the sheets tighter around him with each piercing and pulling through of the needle and thread through the soft flesh. Dean took a quick look at his brother and saw a single tear running down his cheek. He grimaced in sympathy, knowing full well how this hurt Sam and at the same time feeling guilty that he was inflicting more pain upon his younger brother. Nearly finishing the sixth stitch, Dean felt Sam slowly relax underneath him, his hands releasing their stranglehold upon the bed sheets. He was relieved to see that his brother had finally succumbed to the oblivion of unconsciousness.

Satisfied with his work, Dean covered the wound with a topical antibiotic and placed a gauze on top of it. Once he was done, he sat motionless next to his brother on the bed, watching him sleeping and monitoring his breathing motions. When he was confident that Sam was now comfortably resting, he wiped his hands on a cloth to remove the blood and rose to secure the room. He locked the door and – after searching a few more cabinets – salted all windows and doors. Then grabbing his shotgun he made himself as comfortable as possible on a small armchair next to the window by the front door.

It was going to be a long night.

XXXXXXX

By midnight Dean was bored to death. The Boobooshaw hadn't shown up again, in fact he had seen nothing that looked even remotely dangerous since his encounter with this creature from hell.

He woke Sam up every hour just to make sure his concussion hadn't gotten worse, but besides that he had basically nothing to do. At some point he pulled out Tobias Jackson's journals that Sam had mentioned to him on their way to the cabin. He didn't really expect to find anything interesting in it, but with nothing else to do, he took what he could get.

He read about Tobias's first few months in the woods, how the nightmares about Jurij's murder kept haunting him. Then there was a lot about his everyday life in the forest which made Dean think that maybe his early death had been the most exciting part of his hermit life. One entry though caught his attention.

_August 17__th__, 1993_

_I saw her again today. Elena. She looks different, still beautiful in her own way, but her clothes look haggard and worn-down as if she hasn't changed them in ages. She saw me this time. She was standing on the other side of the stream. Even after all these years her eyes are still filled with hate when she looks at me. She knows I had been there that day. _

_I didn't speak with her, I just stared at her until she left. The memory still sends chills down my spine. There is something weird about her. I hope I never see her again._

Thoughtfully Dean stared at the entry. Sam's words from earlier came to his mind.

"_There was an old woman here."_

Had Elena been this woman? The chances were good that she was because, really, how many old women could live in this forest?

Dean took the last journal and skimmed through the pages until the end. One of the last entries made his hair stand on end.

_There is something in the woods. I can feel it. It's not safe here anymore._

XXXXXXX

Sam woke to the smell of coffee and for one moment he thought he was back in their motel room. But when he opened his eyes, instead of kittens all over the wall he saw nothing but empty timber walls.

"Good Morning." Dean greeted him from his place at the window.

"Is that coffee?" Sam asked as he pulled himself up to a sitting position.

Grinning, Dean grabbed a cup and filled it with the hot liquid. "Tobias might have been a hermit, but he sure had taste. Here." He handed the cup to his brother.

"Mhm, thanks." With closed eyes Sam enjoyed his coffee. A growling noise coming from his stomach made him look up at his brother. "Didn't he have something to eat here too?" He asked, remembering the full cabinets he had seen yesterday.

"I should have known you just came here for the food." Dean chuckled. "How about a peanut butter sandwich?"

"Seriously?"

"Would I make fun about something like food?" Dean grinned. "How's your head?" He asked as he began preparing breakfast for them.

"Good."

Sam's reply was only answered with a cocked eyebrow from the older Winchester.

"It's better. Kinda. Still hurts like hell." He finally relented when Dean just kept looking at him knowingly. "We still have some Tylenol?"

"More than enough. Here, eat this first and then you can take the pill." Dean said as he handed him a plate with two sandwiches.

"Yes, Sir." Sam grinned; his big brother was in full mother hen mode, something that didn't fit with the usual cocky side the older Winchester liked to show the world. Sam thought that he was probably the only person on this planet that ever got to see this side of his brother.

"Eat!" Dean reminded him.

Smiling, Sam took a bite from the sandwich and sighed with pleasure. "Man, this is good. I feel like I haven't eaten in ages."

"Welcome to the club." Dean replied with a full mouth. "I was looking through the journals from Tobias last night. He knew something was roaming the forest."

"Did he see it?" Sam asked, his interest spiked.

"Sure, that's why he's dead, remember?" Dean quipped.

Sam only rolled his eyes in response.

"He doesn't mention any encounter." Dean went on more earnest. "But he does mention a woman called Elena."

"Jurij Majovic's mother." Sam added thoughtfully.

"Yeah, apparently she's living in these woods too."

"She must be the old woman I saw." Sam said excited.

"I thought so too." Dean agreed. "Maybe she has something to do with all this."

"What do you mean?" Sam frowned.

"You said she didn't regret Leonard Parker's death. That he deserved to die. Maybe he was part of that lynch mob that killed her son. And what if all the other victims had been there too? Their ages would fit; neither of them was younger than fifty." Dean explained, as his thoughts rapidly ran through his head.

"You think Elena Majovic is controlling the Boobooshaw to kill the murderers of her son? But how?" Sam thought about this intently for a moment. Then he remembered something Old Henderson had told him. "People thought she was a witch. Maybe they were right."

"A witch, huh? Damn, I hate witches." Dean groaned. "But at least this will take care of her." Grinning he held up his Colt .45 caliber.

"Dean, she's human." Sam objected.

"She's a witch."

"A human witch."

"A soon to be dead witch."

"Dean …"

"Sam, she killed these people." Dean cut in. "We can't let her get away with that."

"The Boobooshaw killed these people."

"On her orders." Dean pointed out.

"We don't know that. Dean, we can't just murder her." The younger Winchester stated.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Dean stared at his brother. "Then what do you suggest?"

"We find out how she's controlling the Boobooshaw, destroy what ever it is and then kill it." Sam replied steadfastly.

Groaning Dean looked at his brother. "Could we _please _find a different name for that thing! I'm sick of it."

"I'm not calling it Boobs Shue or whatever name you come up with." Sam pointed out.

"Why would I call her Boobs Shue?" Dean gave his brother a look as if he had lost his mind. "Let's go with Harry for the time being."

Sam stared at his brother dumbfounded. "Harry???"

"You have a better idea?"

"Did a _Harry _ever do anything to you?" Sam asked dryly.

"He rammed a cart into the left side of the Impala three years ago." Dean replied; his tone indicating that there was hardly no bigger crime than that.

"And he's still alive?" Sam grinned.

"He was lucky Dad was around." Dean growled. "So, is there a guy you hate more like anything?"

Sam thought about this for a moment. "Brian." He finally added.

"Brian? Do I know him?" Dean asked interested; his brother's answer had come way too quickly for only a small grudge against this man.

"I don't think so. He's just some stupid ass I met in Palo Alto." Sam replied. "Let's just go with Harry, anything's better than your variations of Boobooshaw."

"We could combine the names. How about Barry?" Dean grinned.

"Barry?"

"Or … Hrian." Dean's grin widened. "Hey, that sounds even a bit mystical. What do you think?"

Shaking his head, Sam looked at his brother. "Fine. Hrian. Great name." Inwardly he was relieved that he didn't have to use the name Boobooshaw anymore … he was starting to feel ridiculous using it all the time. "We kill Hrian …"

"The Hrian, sounds better." Dean cut in.

"We kill _the _Hrian …" Sam continued, slightly exasperated. "… and then we get the hell out of here."

"Uhuh, wrong order, brother." Dean admonished. "First we get the hell out of here and then we take care of the Hrian and the witch."

"What? We …"

"I want to have you thoroughly checked out in a hospital before we continue this hunt." Dean's tone made it clear that he wouldn't accept any objection.

"I'm fine."

"You threw up three times on the way here and passed out twice. You were hardly conscious when I woke you up every hour. This is the first real conversation we've had since we got here and believe me, it has been a long night."

"Dean, I'm fine." The younger Winchester insisted.

"No, you're not. Sam, you were in a helicopter crash. The concussion and leg wound could be the least of your problems. Does the words internal bleeding mean anything to you?"

"I think if I had internal bleeding I would feel a lot worse right now." Sam pointed out.

"You're going to the hospital and that's that."

"And who made you the boss?"

"I'm the older brother. Here, take your pills and let me look at your leg before we go." Dean said as he tossed him the bottle of Tylenol.

Sighing, Sam gave in. The discussion was over and he knew that he wouldn't change his brother's opinion on this one. "Fine, but I'm not staying over night." He mumbled.

XXXXXXX

"You sure you know where we're going?" Sam asked between breaths.

They had left the cabin about six hours ago and according to Dean they should have reached the car after four. It wasn't that he didn't trust his brother's sense of direction but he was tired, his leg was hurting and his head throbbed enough that he was ready to call it a break. Of course he wouldn't admit any of this out loud.

"Of course I know where I'm going." Dean replied, sounding offended. But his eyes betrayed what he really felt. He was worried. It was taking too long for them to get to the car and he couldn't understand why. He knew exactly where he was going. He had never gotten lost in the woods before - not counting the one time he had run headlong out of Bobby Singer's house with a five year old Sam in tow and a Black Dog creating havoc in the hunter's upstairs rooms. They had been running through the woods all night until Bobby had found them the next day.

But he wasn't nine anymore and he knew his way around a forest. He knew how to follow his tracks and he knew they had been going the right way.

"How much longer do you think it is?" Sam carefully asked a few minutes later. He had just about given up all hope that they would find the car and his body was ready to give into exhaustion.

"It can't be much … Holy Shit!" Dean stopped in his tracks and stared ahead with wide eyes.

"What is it?" Alarmed Sam followed his brother's line of sight; his jaw dropping open at what he saw. "Is this some kind of joke?"

Dean kept staring ahead, mesmerized by what he saw.

Not a few feet away from them, hidden slightly by the trees was Tobias Jackson's cabin.

"I don't get this." The older Winchester mumbled after a moment, shaking his head in disbelief.

"We went around in one big circle." Sam sighed angrily. Defeated, shocked and utterly spent he let himself drop to the forest floor. His legs simply refused to keep him upright any longer.

"No, no, we didn't, that's just not possible." Dean shook his head. He looked down at his brother who looked as pale as death. "Wait here, I'll check out the cabin. It can't be the same one."

"Dean, it's …"

"It can't, Sam!" Dean cut him off angrily. He dropped the duffle bag beside his brother and quickly ran towards the cabin.

It couldn't be the same one. It looked like Jackson's cabin, but it couldn't be because they had left it behind over six hours ago and they couldn't be here again! They just couldn't.

But when Dean flung open the cabin's door he saw the familiar surroundings they had spend the night in. Their coffee cups still stood where they had left them, the bloody gauze Dean had changed shortly before they had left still lay on the floor by the bed. And the open glass of jelly butter still stood on the counter where Dean had forgotten it.

They were back in Tobias Jackson's cabin.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**A.N.: Thanks to Kaz for beta reading this chapter. And thank you all for your kind reviews and your patience :) **

**If you're interested, I posted a fic challenge on my SPN site. It's about Dean's deal and whether Sam's turns evil or not. If you like to take part in it, the link is in my profile :)**

* * *

With a grim expression, Dean returned to this brother. The younger Winchester was still sitting on the ground, his eyes fixed on the familiar looking cabin.

"Let's go." Dean said gruffly as he draped Sam's arm around his shoulder and pulled his brother up to a standing position.

"It's the same one, right?" Sam asked.

"Yes." Dean replied through gritted teeth. He couldn't understand why they had ended up here again. Mistakes like this didn't happen to him. Never!

Sam stayed silent during their last steps back to the cabin, feeling too tired to form the questions burning on his mind. Why were they back here? What happened? How did this happen? And what the hell were they going to do now?

Once inside the cabin, Sam sank down on the armchair next to the door. Dean threw their bags on the ground and sat down on the bed, his hands raking through his short hair in frustration.

"I'm sorry, man. I have no idea how this could have happened." He said ruefully.

Surprised Sam looked at Dean; it wasn't every day that his big brother admitted a mistake. But had it really been one? He might believe that they had gotten lost in the woods. But what were the chances of them walking around in one big circle and ending up where they had started from?

Something wasn't adding up, but Sam felt too exhausted to think about it now.

"We'll figure it out in the morning." He mumbled, his eyes already slowly closing and his head resting against the wall behind him.

With a worried expression, Dean watched Sam fall asleep in the chair. After a moment, he took the blanket from the bed and carefully placed it over his brother. He would get him to bed later; right now he felt too exhausted himself to pull his 6'4 brother across the room.XXXXXXX

Sam woke up with a start, a white hot pain lancing through his leg.

"Easy, bro, I'm just checking your wounds." Dean explained, a tight grip on Sam's leg to stop him from moving it any further.

Pushing himself up to a half sitting position and using his elbows to rest on them, Sam glanced from his brother to his leg. "What'd you do? Pull all the stitches?" He mumbled through gritted teeth.

Dean ignored his remark and instead finished patching up the wound with a new gauze and then handed him two pills and a glass of water. "Take these."

"It's okay, the pain isn't that bad." Sam replied, reluctant to take any more medication. It wasn't even a lie; it still hurt, but if he kept his leg still and no one poked around the wound, he was fine.

"This isn't for the pain, moron. You're running a light fever and the wound looks infected." Dean explained impatiently, successfully hiding the worry he felt deep inside. "Just take them."

After another moment of hesitation and a glare that made it clear he didn't really like this, Sam swallowed the pills. He hated it, but he didn't want to risk the infection getting worse. After placing the glass back on the nightstand, he took a closer look at his brother. He looked tired. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"I think I dozed off a bit around 3 am. Sorry." Dean looked at his brother apologizing. "I guess the coffee here isn't strong enough to keep me going two nights in a row."

"You should have woken me." Sam said, feeling guilty for sleeping through the night, in a warm, more or less comfortable bed while his brother had stayed up to keep on guard.

"Yeah, right." Dean snorted. "I could have thrown an orgy in here and you wouldn't have woken up. So, what do we do now?" He changed the subject.

"We try to find the car." Sam shrugged." We can't get lost twice, right?" He smiled to take the edge out of his words. He knew that Dean felt guilty and he didn't want to add to it. Besides, he hadn't really noticed that they were going around in circles either whilst walking through the woods.

"We should mark the trees every few feet, just to make sure." Dean replied.

"Good idea." Sam agreed.

The brothers had a quick breakfast, once again using Tobias Jackson's well stocked supplies, and then started to find the car again.

Ten hours later they were back at the cabin.

"You have got to be freaking kidding me!" Dean yelled angrily. Frustrated, he threw their bags on the ground. Turning to Sam, who was leaning against a tree, he yelled with his arms up towards the sky. "What the hell is going on here?"

With a defeated sigh, Sam looked at the cabin. "Let's just get inside. We can talk in there."

"Are you crazy? I'm not going back in there." Dean exclaimed frustrated.

"You want to stay the night outside?"

"No, I want to find that FREAKING CAR!" Dean yelled.

Sighing, Sam grabbed one of the bags and slowly started limping towards the cabin. A moment later Dean followed and without saying a word he took the bag from him and once again draped Sam's arm around his shoulder.

Sam thanked him silently; he didn't think he would have reached the cabin by himself. He could hardly stand upright anymore. His head was throbbing like hell once more and his leg felt as if it were on fire. Not to mention the several other cuts and bruises he was sporting.

He felt like crap and was starting to think that maybe his big brother hadn't been so wrong when he had insisted on getting him to a hospital. But since they obviously couldn't find their way out of this forest at the moment, that was a moot point.

As soon as they were inside the cabin, Sam once again sank down on the armchair by the door, relieved to get the weight off of his injured leg.

"What are we gonna do now?" He asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Eat." Dean replied monosyllabic.

He started rummaging around the cabinets and after a few minutes he had fetched them a small dinner. By now, he could find his way around the kitchen blindfolded if he had to.

This was starting to unnerve him.

He threw the used plates and cutlery in the sink, not bothering to wash them. No point really. Besides, he felt too tired to start housecleaning.

"Get some sleep, I'll watch out for the Hrian." Sam said.

"Nuh, I'm fine. You …"

"Dean, you've been up for over 48 hours by now." Sam cut him off. " Go to sleep. Now."

"I'm not even tired." Dean replied, unable to hide a yawn. "I'm too high on adrenaline to sleep." He added.

"Just lie down and close your eyes. You've done it before." Sam teased him.

"Aren't we the funny one today." Dean mumbled. "Let me check your leg first."

He changed the gauze and put some more Peroxide over the wound with the hope that it would stop the infection from spreading. He made Sam swallow two more pills and then – after checking all doors and windows – he relented and lay down on the bed.

He immediately relaxed his muscles and shifted until he found a comfortable position. He had to admit that lying down – for the first time in two days – felt good.

Which didn't mean that he would sleep.

"I'm wide awake." He complained after a few moments.

"Just count back from hundred." Sam rolled his eyes. He was still sitting on the armchair next to the window and scanning the environments for any unusual movements. He didn't really expect to see anything. The Hrian had had two days to attack them while they were wandering the woods during the day – it was unlikely that he would bother breaking into the cabin to get to them now.

"Like counting sheep?" Dean groaned.

"Yeah, why not?" The younger Winchester sighed. His brother was the worst when he was tired.

"I'm not four, you know."

"As if you could have counted from a hundred back when you were four." Sam replied.

"I could change your diaper when I was four, so you think counting was beyond me?"

"Shut up and sleep!"

Dean stayed silent for a few minutes and Sam was starting to hope that he had fallen asleep. Until a chuckle coming from his brother told him otherwise.

"What now?" Sam asked annoyed. How hard was it to just fall asleep?

"The sheep were too boring, so I imagined you jumping over the fence. I have to say, you're not really good at it, bro. You already tore down a few." Dean grinned.

Sam only glared at his brother.

"Fine, I sleep." Dean relented after a moment. "You're such a kill-joy most of the time."

He shifted a bit more on the bed and closed his eyes again. Sam did his best not to move or make any sounds in order to not give his brother any reason to open them again.

A few minutes later, his brother's regular and calm breathing told him that Dean had finally fallen asleep. Good, that allowed Sam to let go of his façade and give in to the pain that was driving him insane. He could feel the heat from the infection spreading in his leg and the pain that had been continuously increasing throughout the day, no matter how many pain meds and antibiotics his brother was feeding him.

His face contorted in pain, something he had tried to avoid all day in order to not worry Dean any more. His eyes never left the surroundings outside of the cabin, wary of anything that might come closer. But at the same time he wished nothing more than to give in to his exhaustion and succumb into a deep, dreamless sleep where the pain wouldn't be able to follow him.XXXXXXX

During breakfast the next morning, the Winchester brothers discussed what they were going to do next.

"We find that witch and make her pay for playing with us like that." Dean stated grimly after taking a sip of his coffee. He felt much better after a few hours of sleep and he was looking forward to doing something that would get them out of here.

"You think Elena is responsible for all of this?" Sam asked.

"Who else?" Dean replied through gritted teeth. "I swear, if I get my hands on that bitch …"

"We can't kill her, Dean."

"Yeah, yeah." Sighing, Dean waved his objection aside. He had already known that his brother would object to that. Sam and his principles - as much as he loved his brother for them, sometimes they were just downright annoying. "So, what's your suggestion?"

"We find out where Elena is staying, destroy whatever she's using to control the Boo… the Hrian and then we get rid of it. The Hrian I mean." Sam said.

"That's your plan?" Dean asked dryly, looking skeptically at his brother.

"You have a better idea?"

Dean looked at him with a cocked eyebrow and raised his gun.

"Despite that." Sam sighed.

Rolling his eyes, Dean put the gun back in his waistband. "Okay, we do it your way. I go back to the crash site and follow the witch's tracks. With a bit of luck it'll lead me directly to her hiding place."

"You mean we." Sam interjected.

"No, I mean I. You're in no condition to run around the woods any longer." Dean looked at him sternly.

"Dean, I'm f…"

"If you say you're fine one more time I swear I'm gonna smack you, Sam!" Dean looked at Sam threateningly, his voice having lost all signs of teasing. For the past two days he had listened to Sam insisting that he was fine while at the same time he saw the exhaustion getting worse in his kid brother's features. He had woken up around midnight and found his brother hunched over from the pain. His fever was rising despite the medication. And when he had checked on the leg wound for infection, he had discovered that it was getting worse.

Sam opened his mouth to object, but closed it again after a moment. As much as he hated it, he had to admit that he wouldn't be able to walk much further then a few steps – the walk from the bed to the table had already left him breathless; he would only be a hindrance for his brother if they went together and that way they would never find a way out of this situation.

"Too bad there's no internet connection here." He mumbled instead. Sighing, he looked around the room, as if he expected a laptop to suddenly appear out of nowhere. "I could at least do something then." He added disappointed.

Which reminded Dean of something in his possession that he had completely forgotten about – Jess' letters. Since her grandmother had given them to him, he had waited for the right moment to hand them over to Sam. Now seemed to be a good time; they would give Sam something to do other than staring at the walls and Dean could be assured that his brother wouldn't give in to sleep before he had finished the last one. Because one thing Dean was afraid of was leaving his brother behind alone and finding him in a worse state – namely deeply unconscious – when he returned.

He cleared his throat and started rummaging in his bag – he didn't know what had made him take the letters with him on this trip, but now he was glad he had. "I, um … I got something to keep you busy." He said, not looking at his brother.

"What is it?" Sam asked, suppressing a yawn. He was dead beat, but he wasn't willing to give in to sleep as long as Dean hadn't returned; if something went wrong, he wanted to know about it and not sleep through it until it was too late to do something.

If he hadn't been that tired, he might have noticed the look of discomfort on his brother's face.

"Um, it's … you know, when we were in Carlton City, well, when you were out of it after … after Lilly attacked you, um, Elizabeth gave me these letters …" Dean hesitated, suddenly not knowing how to continue. Maybe he should have just given the letters to Sam right away; it would have made this much easier.

"What letters?" Sam asked, urging his brother to go on.

"They're from Jessica." Dean swallowed when he saw Sam pale at the mention of his dead girlfriend. "I was waiting for the right moment, you know, I didn't just want to throw them at you." He quickly added.

"O-okay."

Dean handed the letters to Sam and the younger Winchester cautiously held the letters as if he was afraid they would fall into ashes if he wasn't careful. He stared at the familiar handwriting for a long while before he looked up at his brother again.

"Thanks." He choked out, unable to form any real thought at the moment.

"Yeah, well, this should keep you busy and stop you from doing anything stupid until I'm back." Dean cleared his throat. He packed a spare gun and then turned to leave. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Be careful." Sam called after Dean, but the door was already closed behind him.

Still amazed, Sam returned his attention to the letters. With trembling hands he opened the first one and started reading.

_Dear Granny,_

_today I helped Jade move into her dorm at Stanford. I can't believe she is really moving out. Even though it is only a one hour drive, I already miss her. I can't wait to get to Stanford myself. Of course I'm not accepted there yet, I still need to write my application, but I'm positive I will get in. If Jade could do it, so can I, right? We are already making plans to get an apartment once I move there too._

_And Grams, I met someone there … _

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**A.N.: I forgot to mention this in the last chapter. The letters Dean gives to Sam are mentioned for the first time in my other story, Calling, in Chapter 15. Just in case you'd like to read more about them. **

**A huge thanks goes to Yuuutsuna for helping me with the latin parts of this chapter. And also t****hanks to Kaz for beta reading this chapter; as always, all mistakes are mine.**

* * *

It didn't take Dean long to find Elena's tracks leading away from the crashed helicopter

It didn't take Dean long to find Elena's tracks leading away from the crashed helicopter. Thanks to the fact that it hadn't rained the last two days, Dean had no problem following her footsteps until he stood in front of a small wooden cottage. It looked old and shabby and Dean could hardly believe that anyone would voluntarily live in it.

But it was perfect for a witch.

Quietly, he crept closer and looked through one of the windows. They were so dirty that he could hardly make out anything on the inside. He carefully scraped off some of the dirt until he had created a small hole – big enough for him to look through. He still couldn't see much but he was pretty certain that there was an altar on the other side of the room. It was mostly hidden in the darkness, but he knew enough about altars to know when he saw one.

He narrowed his eyes to see more clearly, when he suddenly heard a creaking noise behind him. Before he had the chance to turn around and pull his weapon, his head exploded in pain and everything turned black.

XXXXXXX

"Ego tibi impero. Et si mihi iubenti obsecutus non eris otrum si venire noluis, et terribilissime te exsecrabor …"

A muffled, hoarse voice was the first Dean heard when he slowly came back to life. He groaned when he felt something pull at his shoulders and it took him a moment to realize that he was hanging above the ground with his hands tied up over his head. He blinked until the black dots stopped dancing in front of his eyes and he was able to make out blurry images before him.

One of the images had a strong resemblance of an old woman leaning over a table. No, not a table. An altar.

When the rushing in his ears finally stopped, he could make out her words more clearly. Not that that was any help. He didn't understand a word of what she was saying.

"Hey!" He called for her.

She didn't stop. She didn't even look up.

"Uhm, hello? Hi? Don't let me disturb you, but could you maybe cut me loose here? I'll leave you alone with whatever you're doing then. No? Okay …" He tried loosening the ropes that held his hands. This wasn't exactly the most comfortable position he'd ever found himself in. He pulled strongly a few times, the only outcome being the rope cutting deeper into his wrists.

"Son of a bitch …" Dean cursed under his breath. He felt the results of his movements against the ropes as his skin broke further and released a warm flow of blood.

"…et te in locum horribilem exsulabor!"

The woman – Elena Majovic, Dean was sure of that – finally stopped. The sudden absence of incantation made Dean stop in his attempts to free himself. When he looked at Elena, she was standing upright next to the altar, staring back at him.

"You shouldn't have come here." She said in a hoarse voice.

"I can't help but agree with you there." Dean smirked. "Look, I didn't mean to break in or steal something. I got lost and when I saw your cottage, I thought you might have a phone and …"

"You should have stayed with your brother." Elena cut him off.

Dean cursed inwardly. So much for Plan A. "Again, I tend to agree." He smirked. "So why don't you let me go back to him."

She only cast him a short look, before her attention turned to something outside. Without looking at Dean again, Elena opened the only door leading out of the cottage and stepped outside.

"That's okay. I'll just wait here for you. It's a nice place to hang around." Dean called after her. He cracked his neck to catch a glimpse of what was going on outside but he couldn't see a thing. It was too dark.

Dark?

"Crap." Dean's eyes widened in shock. For how long had he been unconscious? It couldn't have been later than noon when he had found the cottage. He tried once more to loosen the rope but without success.

A moment later, Elena entered the room again.

"Don't bother. You won't be able to get out of it. Just like you weren't able to leave the forest." She said without looking at him.

Dean frowned. "So that had been you."

"A little spell was all it took to keep you here." Elena replied with a mischievous smile.

Not that it made him any less angry, but it did make Dean feel better knowing that in reality it hadn't been his fault that they had ended up back at Jackson's cabin twice in a row.

Jackson's cabin.

Sam.

Crap!

"Look, you need to let me go. My brother, he's sick. I need to make sure he's all right." Dean tried to reason with Elena. She wasn't after him or Sam, so there was no reason for her to keep them here.

"Then you shouldn't have left him."

"Look, lady, we have nothing to do with this little revenge game you're playing. Just let us …"

"I won't let you stop me." Elena cut him off; her voice filled with anger and grief.

"If it's not us, someone else will." Dean replied between gritted teeth. "You think you can walk around killing people and no one is going to notice?"

"They deserve to die." Elena replied.

"That's what they said about your son." Dean hissed. This probably wasn't the smartest approach but he never had been the patient type.

Elena paled visibly and fury welled up in her eyes. "You know nothing about my son." She hissed.

"I know that he got hanged for killings that weren't his doing. And now you're getting your revenge." Dean said. "Don't get me wrong, I understand the feeling. But this is wrong. Some of the people you killed had nothing to do with your son's death."

"There are no innocents in that town." Elena replied coldly.

"And Lars Anderson? He had still been a child when …"

A cold, hoarse laughter came from Elena.

Dean stopped his blood ran cold.

"Lars Anderson is the reason I wasn't with Jurij when he needed me the most." She said coldly.

It took Dean a moment to understand what she was saying. "You saved him, didn't you? Lars was attacked by the Hrian when he was six. Since he survived, I reckon someone had had to help him. You."

"The Hrian?" Elena looked at him amused.

"What? You didn't know it's name?" Dean mocked her.

Elena dismissed his remark with a cold stare. "I wasted my time with Lars Anderson. His life for Jurij's … it wasn't fair."

"This doesn't bring your son back."

"No, it doesn't." A sad look flashed over Elena's face – it was gone after a moment. She cast one last glance at Dean before she turned around and stepped out of the cottage. She didn't even bother to close or lock the door – Dean was in no position to free himself.

"Hey, wait!" Dean called after her.

She didn't come back.

XXXXXXX

Dean groaned loudly as he pulled at the ropes for what felt like the hundredth time. Through the partly open door, he could see the first rays of the sun glimmering through the trees. The fire in the chimney had died hours ago; he was cold and his hands felt limp.

"That bitch is so going to pay …" He swore under his breath.

"Dean?"

Dean's head jerked up as he heard his brother's whispered voice. "Sam?"

A moment later the younger Winchester's head poked through the partially open doorway, his eyes widened in surprise when he saw Dean hanging from the ceiling.

"You okay?" He asked as he stepped into the cottage, using a huge wooden stick as a crutch as he limped towards his brother.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked incredulously.

"When you didn't come back I figured something was wrong." Sam replied as he pulled out a large knife to cut Dean loose.

"You should have stayed in the cabin." The older Winchester chastised him.

Sam stopped the knife right in front of the rope. "You want me to go back?" He cocked an eyebrow at him.

Dean glared at him angrily. "Just cut me loose. I can hardly feel my arms anymore."

"You're welcome." Sam smirked as he finally freed Dean. "So, what happened?"

Dean rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms a few times before he replied. "This freakin' witch took me by surprise." He glanced at Sam who looked pale, exhausted and worse for wear in general. "Sit down before you fall over."

Sam looked from his brother to the chair he was pointing at and a second later sunk gratefully down. "Where is she?" He asked.

"Who?"

"Elena."

"Right. Damn!" Cursing, Dean looked around the cottage as if he expected to find her standing in the next corner. "I think she set the Hrian on her next victim."

"Shit." With a painful groan, Sam heaved himself up from the chair using the wooden stick as extra support.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked, his hand reaching out to steady his brother who swayed dangerously on his feet, despite the crutch he was using.

"We have to go after it." Sam replied.

"I have a better idea." Dean grinned. He pointed back at the chair. "Sit down and let the professionals deal with this."

"Dean …"

The older Winchester send his brother a determined glare and Sam didn't have the energy to discuss the matter any further with him. Sighing, he sank back down on the chair. "What idea?"

"She's using the altar to control the Hrian, right? No altar, no control." Dean grinned. He walked up to the altar and with a growl he threw it over. "That should teach that witch to go up against a Winchester."

"You think it'll stop now?" Sam asked doubtfully.

"No, but it'll stop going after the people Elena wants it to go after." Dean replied smirking.

"But …"

"I know, Sam." Dean cut him off. "If she's near the Hrian, Elena is likely to be it's next victim."

Dean knew exactly what his brother would going to say, even before Sam opened his mouth to reply.

"We have to help her."

"We have to kill the Hrian." Dean countered.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "We can do both, can't we?"

Dean exhaled annoyed, but relented. "Fine, we save the witch. Not that she deserves it." He growled. "So, how do we kill the Hrian?"

"There must be some records here about it. Spells or rituals she used to call and control him."

Both brothers looked around the room until their eyes fell on a thick, old book lying on the kitchen table.

"Must be it." Dean said, fetching the book and handing it to his brother. "Here, research boy, show your magic."

Sam started skimming through the pages; he had a hard time deciphering Elena's scrawly handwriting.

"This book is full of spells." He said after a few minutes. "I'm not sure which is the one we need."

"She was using some Latin words before the Hrian showed up. Something like … ego exsecror tu … expellere horribilis … locus … I think."

"There was something .. wait … Here!" Excited, Sam pointed at one of the pages. "This is the one she must have used to call it."

Dean shook his head in astonishment. It always astounded him how his kid brother could pin point things like that with so little information. It would annoy him to no end with anyone else, but with Sam, it made him proud. Not that he would ever say that out loud of course.

"Great. So we call it … then what?" He asked. "We still don't know how to kill it."

"I've been thinking about that …" Sam replied hesitantly.

"And?" Dean urged him to go on.

"When the Hrian attacked me, it felt like it was sucking out … my life."

"So you said." Dean replied through gritted teeth. The thought of Sam getting attacked by this thing still sent shivers down his spine. And it multiplied his anger towards the Hrian by a hundred.

"Well, what if we get the Hrian to suck from someone who's already dead?"

Dean shook his head in confusion. "Come again?"

"We bait the Hrian into attacking one of us and while's it's busy with us, we put some dead part in between. If it takes in the … dead, it might die."

"This is the most ridiculous plan I ever heard. But it might work." Dean added with a smirk. "Okay, finding a dead guy won't be hard. There are at least two of them lying around in the woods."

Sam was obviously uncomfortable at the thought. "We should bury them afterwards … or at least tell someone where they are."

"We will." Dean promised. "As soon as we've finished the bad guy off. I get the body and you prepare everything to call the Hrian when I'm back."

"I hope we're fast enough before it attacks anyone else." Sam said quietly.

"It'll be busy with the witch." Dean grinned. He ignored the chastising look of his brother.

His grin faded when he saw Sam getting up from the chair with a pain filled grimace.

"Let me see your wound before I leave." He said.

"Dean, we don't have time for that. Besides, I took so many antibiotics and pain meds before I left, I doubt there's anything else you can do." Sam reassured him.

Dean didn't want to hear any of it. "Let me see for myself."

"Go and get the body, Dean. We don't have time for this." Sam insisted. "People's lives are at stake."

Dean wanted to protest, but Sam's stern look told him that his brother wouldn't budge this time. And he had a point – they didn't have much time if they wanted to stop the Hrian.

"Have everything ready when I come back." Dean said before he turned to leave the cabin. He forced himself to not cast a last glance at his brother; he hated leaving him behind again.

"And watch out for the Hrian." Sam called after him. "It's after everyone now."

Dean wished he didn't know this all too well himself. That would have made it easier leaving Sam behind a second time.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**A.N.: Thanks to Kaz for her wonderful beta'ing. You're the best, my friend :) **

* * *

Sam had no problems preparing the spell to conjure the Hrian. Elena had written down everything that was needed, making this so much easier for him. All the ingredients were readily and found throughout the cottage.

While looking for the items, Sam had also found a collection of human hearts, kept in glass bottles filled with a strange liquid - he didn't even want to think about what Elena had planned to do with those. He still felt the bile rise in his throat every time he remembered the Hrian ripping out Leonard Parker's heart. It was a memory he wished he could erase from his mind.

Once he'd finished the preparations for the ritual, he slumped down into the chair near the table. He longingly eyed the bed on the other side of the room. But the image of a disheveled Elena lying on that bed made him feel nauseous. He didn't even want to think of all the icky things that might inhabit that bed.

He took a deep breath, willing the bile that once again rose in his throat to subside. Maybe he was just sick. Generally, he usually didn't get that 'creeped' out by such things so easily. He knew his fever had risen - his skin felt hot and clammy and every move made him wince in pain. His skin was oversensitive to any form of touch no matter how soft. Whenever he tried to get up, the world spun and he had to lunge for something to not fall down. The dizziness would pass after a few moments, but the sick feeling was still with him.

Despite this, his leg wound burned like hell, and his killer headache showed no signs of abating. The wound on his arm was still itchy and drove him crazy. He was tired, exhausted and wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and fall asleep. The walk from Tobias' cabin to Elena's cottage hadn't helped his health either. He'd passed out twice, something he hadn't mentioned in front of Dean though. His brother already had enough to worry about without him adding to it.

Pushing the thoughts of his indisposition to the back of his mind, he grabbed Elena's book and started to read, needing something to keep him busy until Dean arrived; otherwise he was afraid he would fall asleep every moment.

The older woman's writing was actually quite interesting to read. The book was not only a collection of casts and spells, but it also held a lot of information about the Hrian. Elena referred to it as a demon and Sam thought that she might not be too far off with that fact.

Reading her notes, Sam learned that after rescuing a six year old Lars Anderson from a certain death, Elena had managed to trap the Hrian in a cave deep in the woods, using magic runes to keep it inside. After successfully trapping the Hrian, Elena had returned to the town, only to find her son hanging from a tree.

She hadn't known the danger her own son had been in when she had saved the child from someone else. And she had returned too late to do anything to help him.

After turning her back on the town, Elena had watched the Hrian through the years. She'd observed its behavior as it wandered in its prison; its hunger growing with each passing day until it seemed to become unbearable.

She'd planned for the Hrian to starve to death but it never happened. And over a prolonged period of time of watching the captive creature, the idea of using it for her ultimate revenge on the murderers of her son had started to form.

Sam didn't think that Elena had been a cruel woman in the beginning. She'd tried to stop the evil and save the town's children. Her son's death, and the fact that he had never been cleared of the accusation of being a child murderer, plus the years of grief and fury she'd been subjected to, had turned her into the woman she was today.

Sam almost felt sorry for her.

He put the book away and stretched his neck to look out of the window for any sign of his brother. He figured he still had a few minutes before Dean would return. Making the most of his time alone, he grabbed the duffel bag that he had taken with him from Tobias' cabin and pulled out the pain meds. He had taken so many of them already, it was a wonder that he still felt any pain at all. If he wasn't careful he would soon be in danger of over medicating himself. Dean would have a fit if he saw the amount of pills missing in the bottle. But Sam just needed to go on for a little while longer. Just long enough to finish this hunt and get out of this forest. He could collapse then. Now wasn't the time for it.

He swallowed two more pills and put the pill bottle back in the bag.

Dean arrived not long after Sam had taken the tablets. He'd gone back to the helicopter to retrieve the body of Leonard Parker and was now carrying it on his shoulder, wrapped in a blanket. With a groan, he placed the body just inside the door of the cabin.

"So, what now?" He asked as he entered and sank down into one of the chairs. He grabbed the bottle of water Sam had used only moments before and took a deep swig.

Sam quickly explained the details of the ritual. All they needed now was a personal belonging or a photo of either of them to get the Hrian onto their trail.

"We can use my Journalist ID, there's a photo of me on it." Dean said, already pulling out his wallet to get the fake ID.

"Actually, Dean …" Sam started, but his brother cut him off.

"Don't even think about it, Sammy. This thing already attacked you once, you really think I'll let it have a second chance?"

"It won't hurt me, that's the whole point of this …"

"Forget it, Sam!" Dean again cut him off.

The younger Winchester let out an exasperated sigh; he had known that it would be difficult to convince Dean of this part of the plan. But his brother could at least let him finish his sentences.

"Look, Dean …" He said calmly. "I'm not sure if I'll be fast enough or strong enough to get Leonard's body between you and the Hrian in time."

"I don't care." Dean replied stubbornly.

"And how are we supposed to get back then? If we're both injured, we'll never make it out of here." Sam played out his last card. "And I hadn't planned to die in this forest."

Dean shot him an angry glare at his words. "Damn, Sam, you …" His voice trailed off as he looked away.

He gave up. Dean knew he had no chance to win this. It wasn't so much Sam's words – although they probably would have been enough as well; it was those damn puppy dog eyes. How was Dean supposed to deny Sam anything when he looked at him like that? Dean always felt like they were kids again and his younger brother was asking for the last bowl of Lucky Charms. Or if he could join him on a fake ghost hunt in an abandoned, dilapidated old house that had nearly killed them both. Or watching "IT" on TV even though Dean knew it always freaked his kid brother out.

He had never been able to say no to his brother when he used that look on him.

And even though this situation was slightly different from all the others, with Sam's life being at stake no matter what Dean decided, he still couldn't say no today.

"Fine, we do it your way." He growled eventually. "But if anything goes wrong, I swear …"

"… you'll hunt my sorry ass down until the end of days." Sam finished for him, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know."

"Damn right, I will." Dean muttered. "Okay, let's start."

XXXXXXX

Impatiently, Dean drummed his fingers on the table. Sam sat on the ground, his back resting against the wall, and stared unfocused at the wall across from him.

Over one hour had passed since they'd completed the ritual to conjure the Hrian – and it still hadn't returned. The stench of Leonard Parker's dead body was starting to fill the cabin and it was beginning to make them queasy. They refused to open any of the windows, not wanting to give the Hrian a second entrance way. The front door was only partially open, not leaving much room for fresh air to get into the room.

"It didn't work." Dean muttered as he picked up his gun from the table and then walked to one of the windows. Peaking through the dirt-stained curtain, he scanned the area outside. Not a single sign of the Hrian was to be seen.

"It worked." Sam insisted. They had done everything by the book. They hadn't changed a single thing from Elena's spell.

Unless it had been the wrong spell. In which case Dean would strangle him for making them sit around for so long waiting for the Hrian to not show up.

Exasperated by this non turn of events, Dean sighed, closed the curtain and sat back down on the chair. "It's probably still busy with the witch."

"Dean." Sam chastised him.

The older Winchester only rolled his eyes in reply.

They fell into silence again. Dean continued drumming his fingers on the table and at one point started humming a song Sam vaguely remembered having heard before.

The rhythmic sounds coming from his brother combined with all the medication he had taken over the day plus a six hour walk through the woods made him feel drowsy. Sam struggled to stay awake, but he felt his eyelids getting heavier with every minute. If he could close them for just one moment …

"Sam, watch out!"

Sam's eyelids flew open when he heard his brother's cry, but instead of seeing the opposite wall in front of him, he stared into the hungry eyes of the Hrian. Before his still muddled mind had time to process what had happened (_he had only closed his eyes for a second, right?_), an excruciating pain exploded in his chest. Sam screamed in agony and his hands went up to push away the Hrian, but to no avail. He tried looking past the Hrian and searched the room for his brother; he found him lying between the remains of what had once been a closet, trying to find his way out of the splintered pieces.

His eyes locked with his brother's as Sam tried to take in a deep breath. Waves of panic rolled over him as his lungs refused to take in any air. The air around was as cold as ice. Or could the coldness be within him? Sam didn't know anymore. A sudden feeling of emptiness and hopelessness spread through him and Sam felt too weak to fight it. He closed his eyes, ready to give in to it.

Just when he was ready to succumb to the darkness that was pulling him down, he felt his chest being ripped open. His eyes flew open in pain and again he screamed in agony. His hands went up to his chest and he felt the shriveled remains of his shirt and the wet liquid on his skin that had to be his blood.

"SAM!"

He heard his brother shouting his name, but he was too far away to respond to his call. His head fell back on the ground and he closed his eyes once more, welcoming the darkness that would take away all the pain and let him rest in peace.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

**A.N.: This chapter is unbeta'ed, so you've been warned ;)Should you find any major mistakes, feel free to point them out :)**

* * *

Impatiently, Dean drummed his fingers on the table, quietly humming Metallica to calm his nerves.

For almost two hours they had been waiting for the Hrian to show up. And nothing. There was no sign of this freaking creature. They hadn't even heard any strange noises coming from outside that might have announced its arrival.

Dean had spend most of the last two hours watching his brother. Sam didn't look good, his skin was pale and clammy and he was obviously freezing as he kept pulling his jacket tightly around himself. He had nodded off a while ago; every now and then his head would jerk up and he'd blink at Dean with exhausted eyes. A moment later they'd fall close again.

Sam was sick, really sick and Dean didn't know what to do. Despite the antibiotics he was feeding him, his condition was getting worse and he just kept getting weaker. And Dean was afraid that the infection was spreading while they were sitting here doing nothing but wait.

Wait for a creature that for all they knew might never show up.

Dean didn't think that they had done something wrong. Sam had found the right spell and had had everything prepared when Dean had returned. And the older Winchester never doubted his brother when it came to research and all things connected.

But why was the Hrian not coming? They had summoned it, so what was keeping it? As a rule, a creature had to appear when it was summoned, so why wasn't this one?

Dean hated it when the bad guys didn't play by the rules.

He focused his attention back on Sam; he had started shivering and small trembles racked his body every few seconds. Cursing under his breath, Dean got up to get a blanket from the bed to keep Sam warm. He had his back to the door for just one short moment, but that was all it took. Before his hand had even reached the blanket, he felt something pulling at his jacket and the next moment he was flying through the air.

With a loud bang, Dean crashed into one of the closets on the other side of the room. The impact was so hard that all air was forced out of his lungs. He felt dazed and saw black dots dancing in front of his eyes; for a moment he was afraid he would lose consciousness. But he couldn't because something was in the room and Sam was on his own and not in the condition to defend himself.

Dean forced himself to stay awake and after a moment he became aware enough to take in the situation. He was lying in the remains of what must have been a closet, a big splinter stuck in his arm. Without hesitating, he pulled it out, ignoring the short increase of pain that this motion caused. His eyes scanned the room, his heart skipping a beat once he saw what was happening.

The Hrian was looming over a most likely still sleeping Sam, blocking most of his body from Dean's sight.

"Sam, watch out!" Dean yelled.

He saw parts of Sam's body moving and knew that his brother must have woken up. A moment later, Dean saw one of the Hrian's claws reach for his brother's chest. Sam screamed in agony, a sound that send waves of chills down Dean's spine.

Not paying any attention to his bruised body, Dean jumped up, reached for his gun and launched himself at the Hrian. Knowing that the bullets wouldn't stop the creature, he used it to slam it into the Hrian's head, again and again. The creature didn't even blink. It continued pinning Sam down on the ground, its claw pressing on his chest. A blue light started shimmering between Sam and the Hrian. Dean saw his brother's eyes roll back and he knew that he didn't have much time left. Determined to get the creature away from his brother, _to save Sam!, _Dean pulled at the Hrian's arm with as much force as possible. After what felt like an eternity, he managed to free Sam from the Hrian, but the creature's claw had had such a tight grip on his brother that it ripped open Sam's shirt and parts of his chest, eliciting another scream from his brother. The wound started bleeding immediately and out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Sam reaching for his chest.

"Sam!" He called, needing reassurance that his brother was still lucid enough to know what was going on around him. At the same time he pulled the Hrian to Leonard Parker's body; the light was still shimmering around the creature's pawn and before the Hrian could stop it, Dean had attached it with the dead man's chest. Immediately the light's color changed to a dark gray. The Hrian let out an unearthly scream, so loud that Dean was sure his eardrum would burst. He pressed his free hand over one of his ears, gritting his teeth as the loud scream became close to unbearable.

And then, as soon as it has started, the scream subsided and a heavy silence fell over the room. Time seemed to stand still for a moment; Dean just stared at the Hrian, still pressing its pawn on the body's chest, when all of a sudden the Hrian burst into flames.

"Whoa!" Dean jumped back from the burning creature, his eyes widening in horror when he saw the flames quickly overlapping on the nearby furniture. A few moments later half the cabin was already on fire.

Dean grabbed his brother and pulled him out of the cabin, not stopping nor letting go of Sam until they were several feet away from the burning cottage. Panting heavily, he sat down on the ground next to Sam, staring at the flames.

"Burn to hell, you son of a bitch!" He growled.

A moan from his brother immediately brought his attention back to Sam.

"Come on, wake up, bro." Dean leaned over his brother and gently patted his cheeks to coerce him back to awareness.

Sam's eyes fluttered open and he looked at Dean with dazed, exhausted eyes.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean smiled at his brother, worry shining through in his eyes.

"My … heart …" Sam mumbled, the words sounding slurred and his hand weakly going for his chest.

"It's still there, Sammy. It's still there." Dean gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and then gave Sam's chest a closer look.

There were three long, deep cuts going from one side to the other, still bleeding. Sam's breaths were coming in quick gasps and Dean was afraid that he was going into shock.

"You have to calm down, Sammy, you hear me? Everything's going to be okay. It's okay." He cupped Sam's face with his hands and forced his brother to look at him, to focus on him and forget about his pain. "I'll get you out of here, all right?"

A small smile played on his lips when he saw Sam nodding weakly, his eyes closing again. His breathing visibly calmed, not enough to fully satisfy Dean, but it was a start. He looked around himself, searching the ground for anything he could use to help Sam. He wished he had had the sense to grab his duffel bag on the way out; then he'd at least had the med kit now. As it was, he had nothing to take care of Sam's wounds.

Cursing under his breath, Dean took off his jacket, followed by his shirt. He then removed Sam's jacket and pulled his own shirt over Sam's shredded one. Sam winced when the cloth came into contact with his wounds.

"Sorry, Sammy." Dean mumbled. He took on his jacket again and then carefully pulled Sam up to a sitting position.

Sam's head rolled down to the side and he leaned heavily against his brother. His skin felt as if it was burning and small shivers kept racking his body.

"You just have to hang on a little bit further, Sammy." Dean said quietly.

Sam gave a weak nod; it was all Dean needed. He wrapped his brother's arm around his shoulder and carefully pulled them both up. They had only walked a few steps though, when Sam's legs gave in and he slumped down. Dean managed to slow his fall, but they still both ended up on the ground.

"Damn it!" Dean cursed. "Sammy, you're all right?"

Sam didn't reply, instead he just lay motionlessly on the ground, his shallow breath the only sign that he was still alive. A wave of despair rolled over Dean as he realized that Sam had lost consciousness – and it didn't seem like he would wake up again anytime soon. Which meant that he wouldn't be able to walk on his own and carrying him all the way would take more time – time that his brother might not have anymore.

Dean closed his eyes for a moment; chastising himself for even thinking like that. A Winchester didn't give in so easily. And he certainly wouldn't be defeated by something with the name _Boobooshaw_.

Taking a deep breath, Dean pushed his fears to the back of his mind. He'd have time to worry later. Now he just had to concentrate on getting Sammy out of here.

With new determination, he pulled Sam up and draped his motionless body over his shoulder. Groaning he got up and started walking in the direction he hoped to find the car in.

XXXXXXX

"I swear, when this is over, I'm so putting you on a diet." Dean growled as he carefully placed his brother's lanky form on the ground. He couldn't go on anymore. For three hours he had carried Sam through the forest; his back was hurting, his legs felt like rubber gum and he simply couldn't take one more step.

With a heavy sigh, Dean slumped down next to his brother, his back leaning against a tree. His throat felt dry and he'd give anything for a mouthful of water. It took him a few minutes to catch his breath and he wished he could just close his eyes and sleep for the next 24 hours.

But Sam's condition continued to get worse; he hadn't regained consciousness once since they had left Elena's cottage behind; the shivers had increased, the chest wound kept starting to bleed over and over again and Dean knew that he was running out of time.

Sleep wasn't an option. Taking a break wasn't an option, but Dean simply needed this one moment of rest right now.

He glanced at his unconscious brother, taking in every breath Sam was taking. His breathing sounded weak and Dean wished that Sam would wake up for just one moment, just so that he could be sure that there was still time. But his brother kept lying motionless on the ground, his eyes never opening.

Dean took a deep breath, readying himself to keep going, when he noticed a burned scent in the air.

"What the hell …" He mumbled.

Frowning, he got up and walked a few steps towards where the scent was coming from; he didn't dare moving too far away from Sam, but he also wanted to find out what was going on. He didn't need to go far though; he had just left Sam behind him a few steps when he saw the burned ruins of a small cabin appearing behind some trees.

It didn't take him long to recognize the cottage - he and Sam had just left it behind three hours ago.

"You've got to be freakin' kidding me!" Dean yelled out his frustration. He quickly turned around to return to Sam – and stopped in his tracks when he saw an old woman standing next to his brother.

"Elena." Dean breathed out between gritted teeth, his hand immediately going for the gun hidden in his waistband.

"You didn't really think I'd just let you go, did you?" She asked in a hoarse voice.

"Look, I'm sorry about your _house_ burning down, but I think you might want to blame your little _pet _for that one. We were just trying to get out of there alive." Dean said, anger dripping from his voice. His hand tightened around his gun. "Now get away from my brother!"

"You killed it. This creature was my only way to make these people pay for what they did to my son." Elena hissed in reply.

"Yeah, well, Sam and I had nothing to do with your son's death, so just let us go. We're done here. For all I care, you can go your way and we go …. Arrgghh!" Screaming, Dean clutched at his stomach, an excruciating pain lancing through his upper body. Panting, he fell down on his knees, his eyes immediately going for his brother.

Sam was still lying on the ground, apparently unharmed by Elena so far. The older Winchester tried to get up, to get between his brother and the witch somehow, but the moment he moved to a standing position, the pain intensified. Letting out another scream, Dean sunk back down on his knees.

"You're going to pay for what you did." Elena's voice reached his ear from nearby; it took Dean a moment to notice that she was looming over him.

Realizing that this might be his only chance, Dean pushed all thoughts of pain to the back of his mind. It took all his willpower to remove his right hand from his stomach and reach for the knife in his boot; he had just reached it when Elena's hand went for his throat, choking him. Gasping for air, Dean's hand tightened around the weapon. He managed to pull it out when black dots started dancing in front of his eyes. He forced himself to focus on the unconscious form of his brother, taking strength out of the sight - if he gave in now, Sam would die.

Collecting all the strength he could muster, Dean pulled out the knife fast enough so Elena wouldn't notice; a moment later he rammed it into her thigh, the only part of her body he could reach from his position.

With a scream, Elena let go of Dean, stumbling a few steps back. Dean took his chance, grabbed his gun and immediately started firing shots at her. He hit her full square in the chest, pulling the trigger until there were no bullets left.

"Die, bitch!"

Coughing, Dean stumbled towards her, holding onto a tree to steady himself. His hand automatically wiped over his mouth; he frowned when he saw blood smeared on the back of his hand. He tried not to put too much thought into that as he knelt down next to the witch. He needed to make sure that she was really dead this time. Suppressing another cough, he searched for her pulse. There wasn't one.

It was then that Dean allowed himself to give into the pain for a moment. He slumped down on the ground, pulling his knees up to his chest as if to protect his hurting stomach; whatever Elena had done to him it still hurt like hell and it made breathing a lot more difficult than it should be. Breathing heavily, he lay on the ground in a near fetal position for several minutes, until he was able to once more push back the pain. He crawled over to his brother and gave him a quick check over to make sure that his condition hadn't gotten worse. Sam was still breathing and that alone was all the relief Dean needed at the moment.

"Okay, bro, let's keep going …" Dean breathed out between gritted teeth. He draped Sam's arm around his shoulder to pull him up, but he wasn't even standing half upright, when another white hot pain lanced through his stomach. Dean doubled over in pain, accidentally letting go of his brother who slid down next to him on the ground. Breathing heavily, Dean stared exasperated at Sam; this couldn't be happening. Dean did his best to ignore the pain and once again tried to pull Sam and himself up to a standing position – and again he broke down before he really stood upright.

"No. No, no, no, no …" Frustrated, Dean punched the tree next to him hard, welcoming the pain the motion elicited. Tears stung in his eyes; caused by the pain from whatever wounds Elena had caused in him and from the realization that he wouldn't be able to get Sam out of here. A wave of despair rolled over him.

"I'm sorry, Sammy …" He whispered. "I'm sorry."

He pulled out his cell phone, hoping against all hope that maybe, somehow he might get a connection out here.

There was none.

Dean closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the tree he was leaning against, ready to give in to the darkness that was threatening to pull him down. It would be so easy to just give in now, to escape the pain, to not having to witness his brother die.

"_Watch out for your brother!"_

Dean's eyes snapped open.

"Damn." Dean cursed under his breath. He couldn't even give up without his father interfering. "Fine, let's do this again." He grumbled.

Taking a deep breath, Dean draped Sam's arm around his shoulder again and once more tried to pull them both up to a standing position. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the pain to the back of his mind and forced down the dizziness that hit him.

He managed to stand upright this time, leaning against the tree trunk and using all his strength to keep Sam from falling back down on the ground and concentrating on making the first step.

"Okay, right … That's not so difficult." He swallowed tightly and then pushed himself away from the tree. He managed two steps before his legs gave in and he found himself and Sam back on the ground again. "Fck!"

Frustrated, Dean slammed his fist on the ground. "Sammy, if there was ever a time I needed you to be awake, it would be right about now." He muttered in despair.

He never got a response from his brother. Instead he heard something else.

"Lars! Kent! Can you hear us? Lars?"

Dean let out a relieved breath. "About time." He mumbled. "We're here! Hey! We're here!" He called out loud.

He forced himself up to a sitting position, pulling Sam close to him at the same time. "It'll be okay now, Sammy." He whispered. "These morons have actually found us."

A moment later, Sheriff Clayton Parsings, followed by several other man, appeared between the trees.

"They're here. The reporters. We found them!"

Dean had never been so happy before to see a member of the police approaching him.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

**A.N.: Thanks to Kaz for her wonderful beta'ing :)**

* * *

Dean awoke in a warm, comfortable bed. The pain was gone, and most importantly, there was no scent of forest. He felt slightly dazed, but in a good way. Satisfied, he sighed and snuggled into his blanket, determined to get back to sleep and not wake up until the end of the year.

It was in that moment that everything came back. The Hrian's attack on Sam, the burning cottage, Elena suddenly appearing out of nowhere, his own pain – and Sam lying unconscious on the ground.

With a start, Dean jerked to a sitting position, immediately regretting it as a stabbing pain lanced into his abdomen. Doubling over, he gritted his teeth so as not to scream out.

"Son. Of. A. Bitch …" He pressed out between breaths, tears stinging his eyes from the pain. He grabbed for the nurse's call button and pressed it several times, then leaving his thumb on it until a nurse entered his room a few moments later.

"Mr. Kent, you're awake." She smiled at him. "I'm Agnes, your nurse for today." She put her hand on his shoulder and gently pressed him down on the bed again until he lay on his back.

Dean curled up, his hands automatically covering his abdomen in a protective gesture.

Agnes gave him a sympathetic smile and fiddled with his IV.

"You should feel better in a few moments." She explained.

"My brother …" Dean forced out, finding it difficult to breathe and talk at the same time. Stomach wounds officially sucked, but he had to push away his own pain if he wanted to find out what happened to his brother.

"Who?"

"Partner." Dean quickly corrected himself. "My partner, is he all right? He was with me."

He looked pleadingly at the nurse.

She was all ready to advise him that she couldn't say but the intensity of his gaze weakened her.

_His partner must mean a lot to him, _she thought_._

"As far as I know Mr. Lane is still in ICU." She replied quietly.

"How is he?" Dean asked, his own pain forgotten and all his attention now focused on his brother's whereabouts.

"I don't know. But I can find out for you." Agnes smiled. "But first let me take your vitals."

She went for Dean's wrist to check his pulse, but Dean quickly pulled it away. "Find out about Sam first." He insisted.

"Mr. Kent …"

"Please …" Dean begged.

And Agnes didn't have the heart to turn him down. "Fine. But after that, you'll be the picture perfect patient, okay?"

"Deal." Dean smiled gratefully.

"Promise." She insisted.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I promise."

"Good." With that, she turned around and left, leaving behind a worried and impatient Winchester.

Every instinct in Dean screamed that he needed to get out of bed and follow the nurse to see Sam for himself. But that would mean moving, and worse than that, attempting to stand up. And trying to sit had already been painful enough.

So for the time being, Dean had no other choice but to be the picture perfect patient Agnes wanted him to be – no matter how much he hated it. Staring at the blank ceiling, and quietly humming Metallica, he waited for her to return.

XXXXXX

Dean had gone through most of his repertoire of favorite songs and was close to crawling the walls, when half an hour later Agnes finally returned.

"How is he?" Dean asked the moment she stepped into the room.

"He's fine." She assured him. "There were no problems during the surgery, the antibiotics are working and Dr. Jacobs expects a full recovery. Your friend is still under close observation, but he is stable and as soon as the fever is down and all signs of the sepsis are gone, we'll transfer him to the ward. I'll try to arrange for the two of you to get the same room then." She finished smiling.

"Surgery? Sepsis?" Dean looked at her stunned. "That sounds bad."

"Not at all." Agnes told him. "There was a small piece of metal still stuck in his leg; there was no way you could have seen it." She added quickly when she saw the guilt well up in her patient's eyes. "You did a good job cleaning the wound; your friend would be far worse off without you. The sepsis still has us worried a bit, but as I said, the antibiotics are taking effect and the fever is already down a bit. Everything looks good."

"So he'll be alright?" Dean asked quietly.

"Yes, he'll be alright." Agnes reassured him. "You took good care of him."

"Comes with the job." Dean mumbled. "I want to see him." He added louder after a moment.

Agnes wasn't surprised by this request - a blind man could see how worried this young man was about his friend. This made it even harder to deny him his wish.

"You can't even sit up without doubling over in pain." She said quietly. "You really think I'd let you walk all the way to ICU? You wouldn't even reach the door."

"You don't know me." Dean replied stubbornly. Taking a deep breath, he slowly forced himself to a sitting position. He grimaced in pain as the movement sent new waves of pain through his abdomen. "Some extra painkillers would be nice though." He breathed out through gritted teeth.

Agnes rolled her eyes in annoyance. "You're going to rip open all your stitches if you keep up this behavior."

"What stitches?" Dean asked dumbfounded.

Agnes looked at him surprised and then realized that in all this time that they had been talking about his friend, not once had this young man in front of her asked about himself.

_"Partners my ass."_ She thought to herself, remembering Dean's slip from before.

"You have severe internal injuries, Mr. Kent. Those don't just heal by themselves." She looked at Dean curiously. Everyone involved in the case of the two reporters was wondering what had happened to them.

She knew that Sam Lane had been in a helicopter crash, but some of his wounds looked like they were from an animal attack. She wasn't the only one who wondered if these two had encountered the beast that was terrorizing the surrounding woods. If they had, it was a sheer miracle that they were still alive to talk about it.

And Dean Kent? There were no outward signs as to how he'd incurred the internal bleeding. He was covered with multiple cuts and bruises, but none of them explained the heavy injuries he'd sustained. It was odd, to say the least.

"Internal injuries, huh? What a bitch." Dean cursed under his breath.

"Excuse me?" Agnes looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I wasn't talking to you." Dean said before putting on his most charming smile. "You think you could get me a wheelchair?"

Agnes rolled her eyes. "You're not giving up until you've seen your _partner_, right?"

"Damn right." Dean replied determinedly.

Sighing Agnes gave in. She didn't doubt that Dean would find one way or another to get to his friend's room and she'd rather have him under medical supervision then.

"Fine, you get your visit. Five minutes! That's all you'll get. You both need your rest." She looked sternly at Dean to emphasize her point.

"Thanks." Dean replied sincerely.

XXXXXXX

Silently, Dean sat next to his brother's bed. Sam was asleep, which Dean knew was normal after what his brother had been through and that it was nothing to worry about. Agnes had assured him that Sam had already regained consciousness a few times and that the doctor had spoken to him on both occasions.

All this didn't keep Dean from worrying though. He needed to talk to Sam himself to be sure that he was all right.

He looked intently at his little brother, taking in every single detail. Sam looked better than the last time Dean had seen him. His cheeks were flushed from the fever, but Dean preferred that to the pale skin from before any day. His breathing was normal and a nasal cannula was delivering him extra oxygen. He was also hooked up to several machines and three different IV's were connected to his left arm.

Sam was getting all the care he needed and Dean was grateful for that. He leaned back in his wheelchair, satisfied with just watching his little brother for the time being.

"Are you satisfied now?" Agnes asked quietly; it was time for her patient to get back to his own bed.

"Just one more minute." Dean replied, not taking his eyes from his brother.

His worried frown was replaced with a big smile when he noticed Sam stir in his sleep; a moment later the younger Winchester opened his eyes and looked dazedly up at Dean.

"Hey Sammy." Dean smiled, relieved to see his brother awake.

"Hey." Sam replied weakly_; _he blinked a few times until his vision cleared and he had his brother in focus. "How are you?"

"How am I?" Dean chuckled. "Hey, I'm not the one currently lying in ICU looking like death warmed up. I'd rather like to know how you're doing?" He added softly.

"You ... You weren't here ... before." Sam whispered. "And you're in a wheelchair."

His voice sounded slurred and Dean could see that he struggled to stay awake. He knew that Sam fought the sleep only because of him; he felt guilty about it, but he needed just a few more minutes. Talking to Sam was the best way to convince him that his little brother really was on the road to recovery; seeing him sleep while being hooked up to all these monitors would only freak him out with time. He could tell as much from past experiences.

"I just wanted to try out the Hospital services." Dean joked. "They get a straight A from me so far."

"So you're okay?" Sam asked, worry in his voice.

"I'm fine, Sammy. Don't worry about me." Dean assured him.

"Good." Sam breathed out, his eyes already falling closed again.

It was too soon for Dean.

"What about you, bro? You need anything? Are you in any pain?"

Sam slowly opened his eyes again, exhaustion evident in them. Dean immediately felt guilty even more.

"I'm good." The younger Winchester smiled. "I think they're giving me the good stuff."

"They better be." Dean smirked.

He watched Sam's eyes close again and this time he stayed quiet. For now he knew all he needed to know.

When he was sure that Sam was asleep again, he took his hand and gently ran his thumb over his brother's lax fingers.

"Get well soon, Sammy." He whispered. "I'll be here when you wake up." He paused, his voice thick with emotions. "I'm not going to leave you." He whispered. He felt slightly uncomfortable with the emotional quagmire he knew he was falling into but he needed this close contact with his brother, the reassurance that Sam was all right and resting and on the road to recovery. He needed Sam to feel safe because if Sam was safe than so was he.

A moment later he felt a hand on his shoulder and immediately let go of his brother, quickly blinking away the tears that threatened to fall.

"It's time to get back to your room." Agnes said quietly.

Dean had completely forgotten her.

"I'd rather stay here." He replied, his eyes not leaving his brother.

Agnes sighed, not really surprised by his reluctance to leave. "You promised to be the perfect patient when I let you in here." She reminded him.

"I also promised to look after him." Dean replied quietly, more to himself than to her.

The pleading in his eyes nearly made her give in but Dean was her patient and she knew that sitting up for too long wouldn't help him to get better.

"You need your rest just as Sam needs his."

"I'm okay."

Agnes drew in a deep breath. "No, you're not." She said, a hint of anger and frustration at Dean's apparent lack of care for himself ringing through her voice. "And if I have to push your sorry ass back to your room against your will, I have no problem doing so. I can always sedate you if I have to." She glared at him threateningly.

Dean looked at her stunned. "They teach you that kind of bedside manner and language in nursing school?"

"That's not even half of what they taught me. Now, you're ready to go?"

Dean cast a long look at his brother that nearly broke the older woman's heart.

"Yeah." He eventually nodded and pushed his wheelchair away from the bed. He grimaced when the small movement sent another wave of pain through his body.

"Why don't you let me do this." Agnes said softly.

For as long as he could, Dean didn't take his eyes from his brother while Agnes pushed him outside Sam's room and back to his.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14 The End

**A.N.: Many thanks to Kaz for her wonderful beta'ing. All mistakes are mine. Also many thanks to everyone for reading - I hope I didn't disappoint you with this story. To everyone who took the time to review: Many, many thanks!! Reading your thoughts, getting feedback of any kind, it always means the world to me. Thank you! :)**

* * *

Dean was bored to death as he flipped through the hospital's TV programs. He had always hated daytime TV, but somehow it seemed to be worse when he was forced to watch it because there was nothing else to do.

"Boring. Boring. Boring. I'd rather be in hell. Boring. Boring … oh!" Dean's interest was sparked at a show about several good looking, scantily dressed women posing for some off-screen photographer. "Nice." He grinned.

He glanced over at his brother who was lying in the bed next to him. He was still sleeping soundly. Sam was missing out on all the fun, Dean thought grinning as his eyes returned to the TV, enjoying the stimuli immensely.

In that moment, a soft knock on the door was heard and it opened to reveal Sheriff Parson. Quietly, he stepped into the room. "Mr. Kent, how are you?" He asked as he reached for a chair and sat down next to Dean's bed. He kept his voice low so as not to wake up the sleeping patient in the other bed.

Suppressing a sigh, Dean turned off the TV. _Go figure._ "I'm fine."

"I'm glad to hear that. Agnes told me that your friend will fully recover as well." Parson said.

"Yeah, he was lucky." Dean stated shortly. Sam's well being was no body else's' business but his and the hospital stuff, so he changed the subject. "What brings you here?"

"I was hoping you could answer some questions for me." Sheriff Parson said, coming straight down to business.

"Sure." Dean said, giving the Sheriff his best 'I'll co-operate with you smile'. He was an expert on avoidance when it came to answering questions from authorities.

"Before I start, I wanted to …" Sheriff Parson cleared his throat before he went on. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you about where to look for your friend and Leonard Parker."

Dean raised an eyebrow in surprise. That he hadn't expected. An apology from an law enforcement officer – who would have thought that that'd ever happen to him. "Yeah, well, next time someone tells you where to look for a crashed helicopter, try to believe him." He replied dryly, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"I will." Parson said earnestly. "Now …"

His demeanor changed and all niceties and pleasantries were gone. Dean knew instantly that the friendly part of the conversation was now over.

"When we found you and your friend, there was a woman with you – she was dead. Shot, to be exact, with your weapon." Parson flipped open his notebook as he spoke.

"You checked that, huh?" Dean asked evasively.

"Yes, we did. You have an explanation for that?" Parson asked.

"Am I under arrest?" Dean asked, wanting to know how much information he needed to withhold or to give away.

"Boy, if you were under arrest, you'd be handcuffed to this bed right now and one of my men would guard that door." Parson smirked.

"I see." Dean looked curiously at him. He still didn't like the Sheriff but the fact that he hadn't arrested him after finding him next to a dead woman, shot with his gun, proved that this man was at least slightly smarter than most of his colleagues. "Her name was Elena Majovic."

Parson paled visibly and stiffened – which told Dean all he needed to know.

"That name mean anything to you?" He inquired.

Parson cleared his throat and quickly regained his composure again. "I'm the one asking the questions, remember?"

"Sure." Dean smirked.

"What exactly happened in that forest?" Parson asked.

"After I found Sam, I pulled him out of the helicopter. Lars Anderson was already dead by then." Dean paused a moment to let the information sink in; he wasn't sure if Anderson's body had already been found by the search team. Judging from Parson's reaction, Anderson's death was news to him. "We were attacked by some … strange animal." Dean went on to explain. "It attacked Lars so quickly, there was nothing I could do." He didn't mention the fact that his bullets had done nothing to stop the creature. "I was lucky to escape the thing."

Parson nodded slowly, grief over his friend's death flashing through his eyes. "What kind of animal?" He asked.

"I don't know." Dean shrugged. "I never saw anything like it."

"All right." Parson scribbled something down on his notepad before he looked up at Dean again. "Where was Leonard Parker when you found Mr. Lane in the helicopter?"

"He wasn't there anymore when I arrived. I think he was already in Elena's cabin." Dean replied.

"Elena's cabin?" Parson raised an eyebrow at Dean.

"Yeah, Sam and I found it when we tried to get back to the car. I'm afraid we got lost." Dean put on a guilty-looking expression. "We went in for the night and, well, Elena made us stay."

"She kept you hostage?" Parson asked surprised.

"Yeah, you could say that. She tied us up and hung me from the ceiling. Not the most comfortable position I ever found myself in." Dean smirked.

"I can imagine. That explains your injured wrists." Parson said, pointing at the wounds on Dean's arms.

"Leonard Parker was already dead when we got there." Dean went on sharing his slightly changed version of what really happened.

"Elena killed him?"

"I'm not sure. It looked more like he was ripped apart by an animal. Actually …" Dean hesitated a moment and looked uncomfortably at the Sheriff.

"What?" Parson urged him to go on.

"This might sound crazy to you …"

"Mr. Kent, with everything that has happened here during the last few months, nothing sounds crazy anymore." Parson assured him.

Dean nodded and went on in a lowered voice. "I think she was using that animal somehow; you know, like a hunting dog or something …"

"A hunting dog?" Parson looked thoughtfully at the young man in front of him.

Dean could practically see the Sheriff's thoughts running through his mind; he had wondered if one of the people involved in Jurij Majovic's murder had made a connection between all the deaths lately.

"Like I said, it sounds crazy." Dean said quietly.

"No, no, it, um … it actually makes more sense than you might think." Sheriff Parson mumbled.

"Oh really?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

Parson looked at him for a moment, but didn't reply. "And what led to you shooting Elena Majovic? Or was Mr. Lane the shooter?" He asked instead.

"I shot her." Dean replied immediately. "We had managed to escape, but she found us and threatened to kill Sam. I had no other choice."

"I believe you." Parson said quietly. "Sometimes … sometimes you have to go beyond anything you ever thought you'd be able to do."

"Hmm, I guess so." Dean replied thoughtfully. "So I'm not in trouble because of this?"

"I'll write this down as self defense. So no, you're not in trouble." Parson said.

"Thanks." Dean smiled gratefully.

"No need to thank me. You tried to save your life and that of your friend … anyone would have done the same." Parson stood up and held his hand for Dean to take. "I wish you and Mr. Lane a quick recovery."

"Thanks."

The two men shook hands and Parson left. Dean shook his head as he watched the Sheriff close the door behind him. The man was making this way too easy for himself. He had practically compared the lynching of Jurij Majovic with Dean shooting the witch in self-defense – and how was that the same?

But Dean wasn't one to complain. If Parson hadn't been involved in Jurij's death, then Dean would most likely be under arrest by now. And a murder charge was the last thing he wanted to have to deal with.

Turning on the TV again, Dean settled back onto the bed. To his disappointment the model show from before had been replaced by a political discussion.

"Great." Dean mumbled and turned the TV off.

He rested his head on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. It was covered with hundreds of small black dots. He could count those – at least then he had something to do other than waiting for Sam to wake up. When his brother had been transferred into his room the other day, he'd hoped to have some company to make the hours pass faster – or better even, to get out of here as soon as possible.

But Sam was still weakened by the sepsis and was asleep for most of the day. He usually woke up just long enough to say a few words and take a few bites of what the hospital staff referred to as food before his eyes fell close again.

Dean knew Sam was recovering and that he needed the time. But he was going stir crazy in here! He vowed that as soon as Sam was off the IV's surrounding his bed that they would get out of here. Sam could always rest in the Impala. He would find them some nice hotel, far, far away from the Reddick Forest and this backwater town with its twisted history.

He shifted on the bed and a twitch in his abdomen reminded him that he still wasn't really well either. He sent some curses Elena's way through gritted teeth – that witch really had found the best spot to make this as painful as possible. At least he had gotten back at her for that.

As his eyes wandered back to the ceiling, Dean felt more than saw Sam shifting on the bed and immediately all his attention was focused on his brother. It was about time that the kid was waking up.

"Rise and shine, Sammy boy." Dean greeted his waking brother.

Sam stirred and a moment later his eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times until his vision had cleared and then turned to his brother. "Was there someone here just now?" He mumbled, his voice still sounding sleepy.

"The Sheriff paid us a visit." Dean replied.

"Crap." Sam frowned, suppressing a yawn. He grimaced as he struggled to sit up and the amount of time it took him to finally pull himself to a sitting position told Dean that getting out of there probably wouldn't happen anytime this week. _Damn!_

"Are we in trouble?" Sam asked once he found a comfortable spot to sit.

"No." Dean shook his head. "He wrote the witch's death down to self-defense."

"Good." Sam sighed in relief. "What time is it?" He asked a moment later. Being asleep for most of the day had made him lose track of time.

"About 5.30 in the afternoon. Dinner is about to be served." Dean smirked.

"Oh, yummy." Sam grimaced. His opinion about the hospital food was even lower than his brother's.

Before Dean had a chance to reply, a ringing tone was heard coming out of Sam's nightstand. The younger Winchester cast a guilty look at his brother and then quickly – or rather as quickly as possible – reached for the drawer to get his cell phone out.

"A snail is moving faster than you." Dean mocked him.

Sam narrowed his eyes at him as he answered his phone. "Yes?" He asked in a low voice.

Dean rolled his eyes. "What are they gonna do? Throw you out of the hospital?"

"Jade, hey." Sam's face lit up and for the moment all hospital rules and mocking brothers were forgotten.

Sighing, Dean turned on the TV again. Sam's phone calls with Jessica's sister always took their time – the last week had told him as much. It really was amazing how long these two could talk over the phone, especially considering that they had only left Jade not even two weeks ago.

And of all times she could have called, must she have chosen the one moment Sam was actually awake and coherent enough to have a conversation with him? That woman had the worst timing – literally.

Slightly annoyed, Dean started flipping through the TV channels again, listening to Sam's side of the phone call with half an ear.

"Yes, I'm fine." Sam just said, the still weak tone of his voice proving the exact opposite of what he was saying. "We've just been in the woods for the last few days and didn't have a connection there. ….. No, it wasn't too bad. Just ended up with a few scratches, the usual. How are you?"

Dean looked at his brother with a raised eyebrow. _Fine?_ He mouthed.

Sam ignored him. "That's great. Say hi to everyone for me. … Yeah, um, I miss them too." His eyes downcast, Sam shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "Tired? No, um, yeah, a bit … uh, I didn't get much sleep last night. … Why would I lie to you? … No, I told you, I'm … okay, maybe more than just a few scratches. But it's no big deal, don't worry. … Hospital? Why would I be … I'm not … How do you even … Okay, yeah, fine, I'm in hospital, but I'll be out of here tomorrow so it's really not that bad."

_Tomorrow?_ Dean asked silently, cocking an eyebrow at Sam. His brother was already struggling to stay awake again and Jade obviously had picked up on it. No way would she ever believe him that he'd be released the next day. Even Dean had to begrudgingly admit that tomorrow was too early for his brother, no matter how much he wanted out of here.

He listened some more to Sam's conversation and his slightly altered story – he was giving Jade the child proof version of what had happened to them, leaving out things as the helicopter crash, the Hrian's obsession with hearts, his attack on Sam and his near dying from sepsis. And all this without even blushing – his brother was a damn good liar when it came to other people. It was a good thing that Dean could read him like an open book no matter how much Sam tried, because otherwise this talent of him would really drive him nuts.

Sam's replies got less and less as Jade seemed to do most of the talking – probably giving him a run down for trying to keep his injuries from her. Grinning, Dean turned his attention to the TV again, this time stopping his channel flipping at a rerun of an old action movie.

A few minutes later, a knock on the door announced the second visitor for the day. After Dean's call to enter, Mitzy Dayton entered the room. She was holding magazines and a few packs of chocolate in her hands.

"Hello you two. Agnes finally allowed for you to have non-related visitors." Mitzy smiled warmly as she sat down on the chair Sheriff Parson had vacated just a few minutes ago. "Probably has to do with you not having any relatives here at all. Here, this is for you. Share it with Sam when he wakes up."

"Wakes up?" Surprised, Dean turned to his brother – and found him sleeping soundly on the bed, the phone resting in his limp hand. The peeping dial tone told him that Jade had already ended the call, she had probably figured that Sam had fallen asleep in mid-conversation. So she was a smart girl after all, Dean thought grinning. Being the good big brother that he was, Dean stretched and reached over to Sam's bed and fetched the phone. He grimaced in pain when his abdominal injuries protested against the movement.

"That bad, huh?" Mitzy stated sympathetically.

"Ah, this is nothing." Dean waved it off. "Thanks for these." He pointed at the magazines and chocolate.

"I figured since you didn't have any relatives in town, there would be no one to get you the usual hospital presents." She shrugged. "So, don't let me wait, now. Tell me everything." Her eyes beamed with excitement as she readied herself for an exciting tale to hear. No doubt most of it would appear in the town's newspaper the next day.

And Dean didn't really feel like telling the whole story again – especially since he didn't feel comfortable lying to the older woman. He had warmed up to her and that didn't happen very often in his line of work. "You know, I'm really tired and I just told all of it to the Sheriff. Maybe you can just get his notes and copy them?" He faked a yawn.

Mitzy rolled his eyes. "I just tried to squeeze any information out of him. But he's terribly tight-lipped about this case." She sighed. "Oh well, I still have the burglary for the front page tomorrow."

"Burglary?" Dean asked curious.

"Oh, don't tell me you haven't heard about it." Mitzy grinned. "What kid of reporter are you?"

Dean looked slightly taken aback, but it didn't take him long to respond. "The badly injured kind of reporter. So, what burglary?"

"That's a lame excuse." Mitzy teased him. "Last night, someone broke into the hospital."

"The hospital?" Dean cut in harshly. "_This_ hospital?"

"The very one." Mitzy confirmed.

"I didn't know there were any junkies in this town. Who would have thought." He glanced at Sam and let his eyes quickly roam the room as if he expected the burglar to jump at them any moment.

"This wasn't a junkie." Mitzy replied. "There were no medications stolen, only patient files."

"Patient files?" Dean asked with a raised eyebrow. Somehow this made him even more uncomfortable than a junkie running loose in the town. "Do you know which ones were taken?"

"Well, yours were among them, if that's what you're asking. The only reason that you and your friend aren't suspects in the case is that the night nurse can confirm that neither of you has left this room last night."

"The Sheriff checked that, huh?" Dean smirked.

"He's a very thorough man."

"Apparently." Dean frowned. "So why would someone steal patient files? Has this happened here before?"

"No, never." Mitzy shook her head.

"Any suspects so far?" Dean inquired.

"Not really. They interrogated the night-watchman, apparently he has a criminal record. And an old, black Mustang has been seen driving away from the hospital late last night, so they're going after that too. But nothing substantial really."

"A black Mustang?" Dean frowned, a suspicion quickly dawning at the back of his mind.

"Yes, this mean anything to you?" Mitzy asked, studying him intently.

Dean shook his head. "I think I saw one driving around in town, but that's it." He faked another yawn, needing time for himself to figure out what all this could mean.

Mitzy picked up on it immediately. "Well, I leave you alone to get some sleep. Get well soon, Dean."

"Thanks." Putting on a smile, Dean watched her leave.

The moment the door closed behind the older woman, his smile vanished. Immediately his thoughts went back to his meeting with Carl, proud owner of a black 1964 Mustang. That car was a classic and there weren't many of those driving around in this area. But Carl hadn't struck him as someone who'd break into a hospital to steal patient files. Particularly not his and Sam's files. Of course it could only be a coincidence; their files could have been one of many that had been taken, for a reason completely unrelated to the Winchesters.

But 22 years of being part of a hunter family had taught Dean to not believe in coincidence too easily. He tried to think back of his conversation with Carl. Had the man said anything that might explain what had happened? They had talked about Carl's dead wife, his reasons for driving restlessly across the country. His wife's name had been Mary, something that had struck Dean right away. But other than that, there had been nothing strange about Carl. Just some random guy he had met in a bar and talked about cars with for a short while. And maybe it really was just total coincidence that his car had driven away from the hospital at the time of the break-in. Maybe it hadn't even been his car. Maybe Dean was just being too overly paranoid.

Or maybe they should try to get out of this town sooner than Dean had planned.

XXXXXXX

Two days later the Winchester brothers were back on the road. Against Nurse Agnes vehement protests, they had both signed the AMA papers and had left the town quickly behind them.

Something was going on and Dean was determined to find out what it was. But the Reddick Forest wasn't going to give them the answers he was looking for, so leaving was the best option.

Life had taught him as much.

While Sam dozed next to him in the passenger seat, still recovering from his numerous injuries, Dean contemplated about what he had found out the last two days.

A break-in at the hospital and their patient files stolen wasn't really that strange, if it hadn't been for another incident Sam had told him about yesterday.

The same thing had happened in Carlton City.

Just one day after they had left the town behind them, someone had broken into the town's hospital. The only things taken – patient files. And again Sam's were among those stolen. Jade had told them about it during her last phone call with Sam and when his brother had filled him in about it, Dean had nearly freaked out.

This was too much to be a coincidence anymore.

As Dean vowed to pay more attention from now on, the Impala sped down the road, bringing them away from their last hunt and towards their next one, wherever that may be.

The end.


End file.
